What if?
by Melissa Anne Potter
Summary: The Seeing Stone: an incredibly rare, powerful magical object which allows the viewer to play out alternate timelines. Seven years after the battle at Hogwarts, Harry finds himself wondering, "What if..?"
1. Chapter 1: The Seeing Stone

Author's Note: I debated with myself over whether I should label this an AU. It does have a lot of properties of an AU, but it isn't technically one. I didn't list any pairings, since they're mostly just canon pairings and aren't the focus of the story. Also, I had to approximate the rating based on where I think the story will go, so it may change in the future. That said, enjoy.

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Chapter 1: The Seeing Stone

It was a rather uneventful day at the office. Harry had not been called out on assignment for over a week. He led a team of Aurors whose assigned areas included Cornwall, Devon, and most of Somerset. It was an honor to head up his own devision, to be sure, but he found he almost missed the days when he used to work London and the surrounding area with Ron. That division was the busiest in the office, receiving several assignments a day. (In fact, at present, Ron had been out on assignment for three days.) Of course, Harry doubted it would be long before Ron received a similar promotion.

Harry signed his name to another scroll, pushed it aside, and sighed, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. He had not slept a wink the night before. His son James, barely a month old, had kept him and Ginny awake all night crying. They had tried everything in the book to quiet him, but in the end, it seemed as though he was just crying for the sake of it. By the time they finally got him to sleep, it was nearly dawn. Harry offered to stay home to help Ginny take care of him, but she insisted she would be fine. He imagined she had dropped into bed moments after he left from sheer exhaustion.

He felt a hand light on his shoulder. "Rough night?" a familiar voice asked.

Harry pulled his glasses back on. "Hermione?" He stood and immediately found himself enveloped in a tight hug. He smiled and wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders. "God, I haven't seen you in weeks. How have you been?"

"Busy," she replied, releasing him. "The department's fighting me tooth and nail on that new wages law."

Harry nodded his understanding. Hermione had been working for years now trying to improve working conditions for house-elves.

"And you," Hermione said suddenly, shoving his shoulder lightly and putting on a show of looking cross. "I've been here nearly two whole minutes and you haven't shown me any pictures."

"Oh, right," Harry reached into his inner pocket and withdrew a handful of pictures of James. (He had started carrying them everywhere with him, since everyone he saw seemed intent on seeing them.) As he handed them to Hermione, he turned to the wizard working at the next desk. "Boot, I'm taking a break. You're in charge while I'm gone."

Terry Boot saluted him with a smirk. "Whatever you say, boss." Everyone knew Harry hated being called "boss" or "sir," so, of course, they never missed an opportunity to do so.

"Is this right after he was born?" Hermione asked as they started toward the door. She pointed at a picture of Ginny sitting up in a bed. Ginny's eyes were heavy lidded and her hair stuck up in all directions, but she was still smiling. She held up the little bundle in her arms and pointed at Harry and Hermione, as though trying to get James to look at them.

"Yeah," Harry said, hurrying to open the door before Hermione crashed into it. He ducked as a paper-airplane memo swooped low over his head, settling on Terry's desk.

Hermione suppressed a giggle behind her hand. "Oh dear, he's already got your hair."

She continued flipping through the pictures as they walked to the break room, pausing occasionally to laugh or say, "aww." The break room was small, dimly lit, and nearly empty. A couple of witches eating lunch at the one table were the only occupants. Harry and Hermione sat at the table on the opposite wall.

After going through the stack pictures a few times, Hermione finally handed them back. "Well, he's just adorable," she said. "You and Ginny are really lucky."

"Thanks," Harry said, tucking the pictures back away.

She bowed her head suddenly, picking at a fingernail. "Ron and I have been trying," she said in a small voice, "but with our jobs...it's so hard to find time to be together, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry said. Working the London division was fun, but he remembered all too well how often he was away from Ginny for days or even weeks at a time.

Silence stretched between them for a few moments. Then Hermione looked up, smiling again. "You should bring him by the office sometime. Ginny, too, I haven't seen her in a while either."

He nodded, mentally sifting through his schedule to find a time when he would be able to.

Hermione's smile wavered and she bit her lip. She briefly glanced at the witches across the room and lowered her voice. "I have to be honest. I actually came by to ask for a favor."

"What is it?"

"Well...one of my contacts in the Department of Mysteries asked me to help him with a project. It's so silly, but I don't like going down there alone. Normally I'd ask someone from the office, but the information's a bit sensitive and I can't risk anything leaking out. I mean, I can understand if you're too busy—"

"I'll do it," Harry interrupted, knowing that she could go on for several minutes if he let her.

"Are you sure?"

He smiled. "I get off work at five. Does that work for you?"

Hermione nodded, her expression cheerful again. "That's perfect. I have to make a court appearance at four anyway. I'll just meet you there." She glanced at her watch and stood. "I have an appointment to get to. I'll see you later." She hurried off.

Harry followed not long after. He took a bit of parchment and a quill from his pocket and scrawled a quick note to Ginny letting her know that he would be home late. He sent it up to the Atrium as a memo, where it would then be processed and sent out by owl. He returned to the office afterwards and pulled another scroll of parchment from the pile on his desk. Even when there was no fieldwork, it seemed like the paperwork never ended.

Even with the prospect of the mysterious project, it was still nearly five-thirty before Harry managed to pry himself away from the office. He left the office in the command of Elaine Eels, a red-haired woman with thick glasses who was ten years his senior. (Terry had gone home hours earlier.) He waved to a few coworkers before exiting the office and boarding the lift with a dozen other people. By the time he hit the Department of Mysteries, however, he was standing alone, most of the others having gotten off in the Atrium.

Hermione was waiting just outside the lift when he arrived, clutching a bit of parchment in her hand. She looked nervous, though her expression softened some when she saw him. "Thanks again for doing this," she said.

"No problem," Harry said, though he felt a certain foreboding as he stepped into the dark corridor. He had been down this corridor several times since he began working at the Ministry, as it contained the only stairs leading down to the courtrooms; however, he had not entered the Department of Mysteries since the night nearly nine years previous when he and his friends had run down here intent on saving Sirius. He stared at the black door at the end of the corridor, his stomach doing a flip.

Apparently his unease showed on his face, as Hermione looked away quickly, pretending not to notice. She opened the door, letting Harry through into the circular room first.

The moment the door closed, the twelve doors leading off from the room began to rotate around them. Harry shut his eyes, not wanting to add to his nausea. He chanced a peek a few moments later and they had stopped.

Hermione drew her wand and glanced at the parchment. "We're looking for the room for new acquisitions. There should be a Pensive set up near the door." She turned to a door on her left and opened it. Harry had a brief sight of a giant glass tank filled with brains suspended in green fluid before she conjured a red X on the door and shut it. "Let's try that again," she said as the room started to spin once more.

It took Hermione six tries to find the right room. Finally, she opened a door on a room containing six desks with a variety of strange objects piled on top, some of which were emitting puffs of smoke or growling softly. Piles of packages ranging from the size of Harry's palm to one that was twice as tall as him and three times as wide were resting against the walls. Just as Hermione had said, there was a Pensive set on a spindly table on the left side of the door, casting a soft silver light over the room.

Once Harry was in, Hermione shut the door quickly behind them and pulled a pair of dragon hide gloves from her pocket, slipping them over her hands. She then used her wand to light the torches on the walls and glanced around the room. "He said it'd be right—ah!" She strode across the room and picked up one roughly the size and shape of her fist. She brought it to the nearest desk, pushing aside a large dusty book that was hissing at her like a cat, and carefully unwrapped it.

The paper lifted to reveal a large ebony stone. The light from the torches danced across the smooth surface in a way that was almost hypnotic.

Intrigued, Harry stepped forward. "What is it?"

"A Seeing Stone," Hermione replied. "Don't!" Her voice rose as Harry started to reach toward it.

Harry, who had not even realized what he was doing, withdrew his hand. "What does it do?"

"It shows alternate timelines." Hermione picked up the stone in her gloved hands to examine it. "They're very rare. I never thought I'd see one up close."

"What do you mean, 'alternate timelines?'"

"Say I wanted to know..." Hermione trailed off, as though thinking about it, "...what would've happened if I'd had a sibling." She gestured to the stone. "All I'd have to do is think about the question, touch the stone, and it would show me."

"How does it show you?" Harry asked.

"That's the thing. No one really knows. It's been so long since anyone's gotten their hands on one. This one was found in a house in western Norfolk. My contact said they've been trying to find the owner of the property, but no one's seen him in weeks. All his things were still in his house and breakfast was sitting out on the table, so he didn't just pack up and leave. It's like he vanished into thin air."

"Do you think the stone had something to do with it?"

"Might have. The information we have about Seeing Stones is sketchy at best. Until we know more, it's probably best to err on the side of caution."

So, Harry stood off to the side as Hermione set to work. She took out a measuring tape and wrapped it around the stone at several different angles, jotting down some notes as she did so. She examined it from all angles with a critical eye, as though looking for any imperfections. Then she drew her wand and began prodding it, muttering a variety of spells Harry did not recognize. Nothing seemed to happen. She frowned and wrote a few more lines on her parchment.

"Not really anything else I can do until I've done some reading," Hermione said, setting the stone back down. "I'll just leave a note..." She tore off a section of parchment and wrote a quick message, tucking it under a paperweight shaped like a Golden Snitch. "Harry? Are you all right?"

Harry blinked and tore his eyes away from the stone. "Yeah," he said unconvincingly.

"I know what you're thinking, and don't. We don't know enough about this thing yet. It could be dangerous."

"I know," he said. Still, he could not stop himself looking back over his shoulder to catch one last glimpse of the glinting ebony before the door shut behind them.

-

Harry lay awake next to Ginny, listening to James fuss in his crib. (They had tried feeding him, changing him, carrying him around, but nothing seemed to be work.) The crying was not what kept him awake, however. Rather, it was the same thing that had tormented his mind for the past few days.

The Seeing Stone.

The rational part of his mind told him that Hermione was right. It would be stupid to use the stone before they knew more about it, especially since the last owner had disappeared so mysteriously. For all they knew, the stone had done something to him.

Harry's muscles twitched restlessly, so he got up, careful not to shift the bed too much, and went to the crib. James' legs and arms were drawn up to his body as he let out racking cries. They had taken him in to see a Healer several times, but she just waved off their concerns. "He's got colic," she said. "Not really a cure for that. Just rock him a bit and try to get him to sleep."

"Shh..." Harry reached in and picked up the screaming infant, carefully cradling him in the crook of his arm. He tiptoed to the door and out into the kitchen, getting out a bottle of milk. He pointed his wand at it to warm it up and offered it to James. "Are you hungry?" he asked softly.

James paid no attention to the bottle, continuing to bawl. Harry sighed and put the bottle back, shifting the baby to his other arm. "All right, all right," he said. He moved out to the living room and sat down, gently rocking James back and forth. This seemed to help a bit. James quieted down after a few moments, though his face remained red and contorted. After about an hour, his muscles finally relaxed and his breathing slowed.

Harry sat watching him for the last few hours until dawn. He was hardly aware of the time until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Ginny bent to kiss him on the cheek. "You're a miracle worker," she murmured, sitting down with a heavy sigh. She had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was frizzy.

"Probably just tired out from all that screaming," Harry said without looking up.

Ginny leaned toward him again, but this time, her face stopped a few inches from his. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine."

"Something's bothering you. I can tell. Is it that project Hermione's got you on?"

He hesitated, but finally nodded.

"If it's that bad, just don't do it. Hermione will understand."

"It's not that," Harry said. He sighed and shook his head. "Just stress, I guess. It's nothing."

Ginny looked as though she did not quite buy this, but she just kissed him again and stood. "I'll make some breakfast."

Harry kept his eyes on James as she left, his stomach clenching. He hated lying to Ginny. He knew she would understand if he told her the truth, but something held him back, a tiny voice in his mind asking, "What if..."

Harry was not particularly hungry that morning, but he forced down his eggs and sausages to appease Ginny. To the relief of them both, James stayed asleep even after Harry lowered him back into his crib. He kissed Ginny goodbye and threw Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepping in. The flames swept him off to the Ministry.

Harry did not get much done that day. Ron had finally returned from his assignment and spent the morning regaling Harry with the story of how they infiltrated a small group of Dark wizards selling illegal poisons out of a shop in a dark corner of London. Though he was not as enthralled as he usually would have been, Harry was glad for the distraction. Unfortunately, the head of Ron's department, a burly middle-aged wizard named Connor Flynn arrived around noon to order Ron back to his desk.

"Back to the grind, eh?" Ron muttered to Harry. "See you later."

Ron's interruption coupled with Harry's distraction meant that Harry barely made a dent in his paperwork that day. He stayed at his desk until nearly eight o'clock before finally admitting defeat. He stretched his cramped legs and stood, moving toward the door in a stupor. People waved at him, but he barely even noticed, boarding the lift with a handful of others eager to get home.

Harry did not notice that he had missed the Atrium until the woman's voice announced that he had reached the ninth level. He considered staying on the lift and letting it carry him back down to the Atrium, but his legs seemed to move of their own accord. He stepped out into the corridor.

The lift doors shut behind him with a clatter that echoed in the silence following. Though it was late May, the corridor was as dank and cold as ever. Harry shivered, but his legs carried him forward and through the black door. The circular room spun around him as usual, but when he chose a door randomly on his right, it opened up on the correct room with its various packages and items strewn about. Once again, the only light came from the Pensieve. The stone was sitting on the desk where Hermione had left it.

Harry stepped up to it, but he only stared at the shimmering surface. He should not be here. Hermione was right. It was too dangerous. He had no idea what kind of curses might be on this thing. Even if it wasn't cursed, he didn't know what it would do to him. Yet, something kept his feet rooted to the spot.

A distant memory nagged his mind. He was standing in front of the mirror of Erised, looking up at Dumbledore.

"_It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live._"

Harry recognized the force pulling him toward the stone. It was the same one that drew him to the mirror nearly fourteen years ago. He did what Dumbledore said then and didn't go looking for the mirror, much as he wanted to. His eleven-year-old self had been able to resist temptation; he should have had no trouble now. But faced with the Seeing Stone sitting within reach, Harry's self-restraint dissolved. His hand stretched toward the stone.

He would just have a quick look. It couldn't hurt. After all, the stone was obviously not like the mirror. The wizard who owned it last didn't wasted away in front of it.

His fingers hesitated an inch from the stone. He'd had a lot of time to think about his question in the last few days. Collecting his thoughts, he concentrated on the question and lowered his hand.

_What if Voldemort never existed?_

A biting cold sensation swept over Harry. His vision went dark, an absolute silence filling his ears. He could no longer feel the ground under his feet, could feel nothing in fact, except for an odd pulsing like a heartbeat under his icy fingers that was gradually slowing. A deep fear unlike anything he had ever felt before gripped him.

With some effort, Harry managed to pry his fingers off the stone and the world came rushing back. He stood staring down at it for several moments, panting and clutching his chest, which felt oddly constricted. What was that?

He shook his head. It was probably just a fluke. Maybe he just needed to ask a different question. He reached for the stone again immediately, knowing he'd lose his nerve if he hesitated any longer.

_What if Voldemort was defeated before I was born?_

This time, Harry only allowed the darkness to envelop him for a few moments before wrenching his hand away. He was shaking now, his face drenched in a cold sweat. He knew he should just walk away. The stone was obviously dangerous. He had probably just been lucky those last two times.

Yet, Harry did not move. A new question had occurred to him. He was not quite sure how he thought of it. Maybe he had followed the line on Voldemort to its conclusion, or maybe he was just influenced by where he was. Whatever the reason, Harry took a deep breath and let his fingers brush the freezing surface of the stone a third time with this new question in mind.

_What if the prophecy was never made?_

Harry's hand locked around the stone in a vice-grip. Shards of ice starting at his fingertips swept up through him, slicing through his veins. He screamed as they ripped their way through his chest and spread up his throat, into his head, embedding themselves in his brain. A thousand images flashed before his eyes, a blur of colors too quick to see. The shards dug in deeper and deeper, sending out waves of agony that made Harry convulse. Suddenly, the floor dropped out from under him and he was falling. The roaring in his ears grew louder and louder.

Finally, everything stopped. Harry was lying flat on his back on a soft surface, staring up at a white ceiling. Sunlight filtered in through windows behind him and on his left.

Harry sighed, pressing a hand over his eyes. It was all just a dream. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. A stone that showed alternate timelines? He must have been working too hard.

Harry could hear birds chirping outside, but otherwise, it was quiet. He imagined Ginny had taken James out into the sitting room to try to get him to sleep. He reached over to his left, where he knew he would find Ginny's side of the bed empty.

His hand met nothing. His heart hammering in his chest, Harry groped either side of the bed. It was narrow, about half the width of his and Ginny's bed. And, now that he thought about it, the windows were in the wrong places. He sat up, squinting around at the unfamiliar furniture, a desk sitting where James' crib should have been. The walls were plastered with posters, but he could not make out any of the pictures without his glasses. Where was he?

Harry blinked and raised his hand to rub his eyes again.

He froze. His hands had shrunk. The fingers were thin and the wrists were tiny. He kicked his sheets off and looked down at himself. He was wearing light blue pajamas with Golden Snitches on them. There was no question about it. His limbs had definitely shrunk.

Not even daring to guess at what was going on, Harry turned to the bedside table, hoping to find his glasses, and was met with another surprise. Next to the desk lamp sat not his own cheap, plastic frames, but a pair of oval, wire-rimmed glasses. He picked them up and slipped them on his face. He could see perfectly.

He looked around the room again. He could see now that the posters were for the Quidditch team Puddlemere United. The seven players stared down at him from all sides, making him feel intensely uncomfortable.

A pounding at the door made him jump. "Get up, lazy!" a girl's voice shouted. He heard footsteps fade into the distance.

Harry sighed and stood up, stretching. There was only way to figure out what was going on. He would just have to go out and see.

Harry opened the door to find himself in a narrow corridor with three other doors, one on his side, and two on the other. A staircase on his left led down to the next floor. He heard voices coming from downstairs, so he went that way, descending the steps.

At the bottom of the stairs there was small sitting room with two couches and a fireplace. Harry saw the front door and considered just leaving, but before he had decided, he heard a familiar voice from the next room.

"I don't know what the hell he's thinking. Full moon tomorrow night and he's off chasing after Greyback? It ain't right."

Harry's breath caught in his chest. It couldn't be... He rushed over and stood in the doorway, gaping.

The kitchen was small and very cramped due to a large table that took up much of the floor space. A woman with long red hair stood at the stove with her back to Harry. The sound of sizzling grease filled the room. There were two people sitting at the table: Sirius Black, the source of the familiar voice, and Harry's father, James Potter.

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Author's Note: Please review. Next chapter: faces both familiar and not so, a trip, and an argument. Harry must try to fit in as he struggles to figure out what's going on and where—or rather, _when_—he is.


	2. Chapter 2: Familiars and Phantoms

Author's Note: Thanks to all reviewers. I should probably make a note early on that I've tried to think out all of the details for the alternate world. If anyone spots a mistake, feel free to say so. There are a few things that might seem like discrepancies that are intentional and will be explained later on, but I'll be the first to admit that I'm not perfect. That said, enjoy.

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Chapter 2: Familiars and Phantoms

The chatter stopped the moment Harry walked in. "Hi there, sleepyhead," James said. He was older than Harry had seen him in pictures. A few lines were starting to form at the corners of his eyes, and his hair was speckled with gray. Nevertheless, it was definitely him.

"Dad?" Harry said faintly. His voice sounded strangely high-pitched.

The woman turned, but Harry already knew who she was. "You get your butt right back upstairs and put some decent clothes on," Lily Potter said, brandishing a spatula like a weapon. She also looked older than he remembered. "We have company."

"Oh, I'm company now?" Sirius said, breaking out in a grin that looked somewhat forced. In contrast to the other two, he looked a fair bit younger than when Harry had known him, and there was a twinkle in his eyes. "How very posh."

At that moment a streak of red hair moved out of the corner of his eye. A girl who looked to be around six years old had rushed up to James, tugging on his arm. Her bright green eyes were magnified by a pair of thick round glasses. "Okay, I'm dressed," she said. "Can I go?"

"No, sweetie," James said. "You're staying here with your godfather, okay?"

"C'mon, Sarah," Sirius said, crouching down in his chair so his face was level with hers. "We'll have loads of fun. How 'bout I take you up on my bike, eh?"

Lily turned her wrath on Sirius, shaking the spatula. "You'll do no such thing!"

"Oh, you know I was only joking," Sirius said, though Harry noticed he gave the girl a discreet wink.

"You okay there?" James asked Harry, tilting his head a bit. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Harry jolted. He had seen a ghost. Three, in fact. And, if he was not mistaken, he was also seeing the phantom of the little sister he never had, now being tickled by Sirius. He shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. "I think I just need some air."

"Well, don't wander far," Lily said, turning back to the stove. "and don't come back till you're properly dressed."

Harry stumbled out of the room and out the front door into Godric's Hollow. It looked much as it had when he was last there, but everything seemed far less ominous. He could hear birds chirping in the nearby trees, see people's shadows moving in windows. Sirius' motorbike was parked in the driveway, looking identical to the day Harry had first seen it. Down the street, an elderly man was mowing his lawn. He spotted Harry and gave him a warm smile, waving.

Harry waved back numbly, feeling faint. He had done it. Not only had he changed the timeline, he seemed to have turned back time. His parents were alive. And Sirius. From the words he had overheard, he surmised that Remus was still alive, too. He was living at Godric's Hollow. He even had a little sister.

Now he just had to figure out what year it was.

Harry looked down at himself. He seemed fairly young, but it was hard to tell. Even if he could remember what he looked like at any point in time, it would be next to impossible to know how growing up in a proper home would have changed that.

When he got back inside, Harry managed to remember what Lily had said and went back upstairs to the bedroom. He did not go to the wardrobe right away, however. He stood in the center of the room for a moment, turning around in a slow circle so he could take it all in.

It was not a large room by any means. The narrow bed, wardrobe, desk, and a small chest took up most of the floor space. There were comic books and bits of parchment scattered all over the desk, along with a few books on dragons that looked as they they were written specifically for children. Harry picked up the nearest comic book and found himself watching a town of villagers run from a swooping Chinese Fireball on the cover.

Harry knew the others would be wondering where he was, so he reluctantly dropped the comic book back on the pile and went to his wardrobe. There were sets of both wizarding robes and Muggle clothes. Harry recalled that his parents had been wearing Muggle clothes, so he pulled on a T-shirt and jeans before heading back downstairs.

Lily was putting out plates of eggs, bacon, and toast on the table when he arrived. Harry tried to eat, but his stomach was too queasy. He had been thrust into this with no idea what was going on around him. What if someone asked him a question and he gave the wrong answer?

"You're being awfully quiet," Lily said, reaching over to feel Harry's forehead. "Are you ill?"

Before Harry could even open his mouth, James spoke. "Rubbish. He's just excited, aren't you son?"

Harry forced a small smile, trying to pretend he knew what they were talking about.

"'Course he is," Sirius said. "Not every day your parents go out and spend a load of money on you, is it?" He leaned across the table and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. "Bet if you beg enough, your dad'll break down and get you a broom."

"Now, don't be putting ideas in his head," Lily said. "We're going for school supplies _only_."

So it was summer, then. Harry could have surmised that, but then it hit him. Of course. He knew what year it was. It was 1991, the summer right before he started at Hogwarts.

They finished breakfast and filed into the sitting room. Sarah was still pouting about not getting to go to Diagon Alley, but she cheered up when Sirius produced a Chocolate Frog from his pocket and gave it to her.

Lily took a handful of Floo Powder from the fireplace and wrapped a protective arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Lily, he's almost eleven," James said. "He can go by himself."

Lily gave James a worried look, but she released Harry. She threw the powder into the fire and stepped into the green flames. "Diagon Alley!" She vanished from view.

"You know how this works," James said. "Step in, say your destination. Keep your eyes peeled for your mum, yes?"

Harry nodded, playing the part of the ignorant child. He threw his powder in and stepped forward. "Diagon Alley!"

The moment he stepped out of the fireplace, he found himself smothered by red hair. "You did it!" Lily said, squeezing him so tightly he could hardly breathe.

Harry smiled when she released him though his ribs still ached a bit. He glanced around at the people crowding around them and realized they were in the Leaky Cauldron.

James stepped out a moment later, readjusting his glasses. He clapped Harry on the back. "See, what did I tell you? The boy's a natural!"

"Well, you're just lucky—"

"James!" a voice exclaimed. The crowd parted and, of all people, Peter Pettigrew appeared, waving as he fought his way toward them. His other hand was clutched around the handle of a tankard.

Harry's heart slammed into his throat. It had not occurred to him that Wormtail would still be alive.

As Harry was considering his escape routes, however, James laughed and strode forward, embracing Wormtail in a one-armed hug. "Good to see you, Pete. How's Jess?"

"Much better, much better," Wormtail said. Now that Harry really looked at him, he was much more well-groomed than normal, although his face was still very rat-like. "She's off helping Jo pick out her school things. I thought I'd stop off for a drink. Care to join me?"

Lily gave James a murderous look.

"Would that I could, mate," James said. "Have to take Harry around for his things, you know?"

"Aye." Wormtail looked around at Harry as though just now noticing him. "Well, look at you, all grown up. Last I saw you, you couldn't have been more than two feet. Right little terror he was though, eh Lily?"

Lily gave a courtesy smile, though she looked quite annoyed.

James seemed to notice. "Well, best be off," he said. "I'll send you an owl."

Wormtail grinned and lifted his tankard in a toast as they left the pub.

"He has some nerve," Lily said haughtily the moment they stepped outside. "Leaving poor Jess to do all the shopping and just after she's been ill!"

"Give the man a break," James said. "He was just getting a drink."

Lily sniffed but did not speak further.

Harry's mind was racing. In this timeline, Wormtail had not betrayed his parents, that much was certain, but that did not necessarily mean anything. He could still be a Death Eater. Harry wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he could not help but side with his mother. From the way Wormtail had been acting, it seemed like he'd had more than just "a drink."

Their first stop was Gringotts. The goblin Griphook brought them down to their vault in one of the carts. As they got out and Griphook fitted the little key into its lock, Harry readied himself to see the heaps of gold, silver, and copper.

When he finally saw the inside, he thought there must have been a mistake. This couldn't be his parents' vault. Their small fortune was missing from it, replaced by a tiny stack of galleons, a couple of sickles, and a few handfuls of knuts. But James stepped forward without hesitation, sweeping half of the money into a bag.

This new information drove Wormtail from Harry's mind. What had happened to his parents' money? Sure, he had expected there might be a little less, since his parents were around to spend it, but how had they spent so much? Expecting himself to be in a moderately well-off family, Harry realized something with a jolt.

They were poor. Maybe not as much so as the Weasleys, but it was still jarring.

"Are you sure you're okay, dear?" Lily asked as they stepped back outside.

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to look cheerful.

"Let's go get your wand first," James said. "I know you've been looking forward to that."

As they stepped into Ollivander's cramped shop, Harry looked around for Mr. Ollivander, but he was nowhere to be found. A dark-haired woman stood in his place, offering a wand to a young Parvati Patil. Her sister Padma stood off to the side with a man and woman who Harry guessed were their parents. Padma was already clutching a packaged wand box in her hands.

"Give it a wave, there's a girl." The woman smiled warmly as red sparks shot out of the wand. "Yes, chestnut, eight and a quarter inches, with a phoenix feather at its core. Excellent choice."

The Patils paid for their daughters' wands and filed out. The woman turned to James and Lily "Good morning."

"Good morning, Arielle," Lily said. "How's your uncle?"

"Not well, I'm afraid," Arielle said. "The Healers are doing all they can, but it's looking very bleak." She spotted Harry and reformed her face into a smile. "And here's the little nipper. Harold, is it?"

"Harry," James corrected, patting Harry's shoulder. "In for his first wand."

"Lovely!" Harry expected Arielle to get out the measuring tape as Ollivander had, but she turned immediately to the shelf and picked a box at random, presenting the wand to him. "Give it a wave, dear."

Harry wanted to tell her his wand so as not to waste time, but he knew it would look suspicious. He picked up the wand and waved it obediently. As he had expected, nothing happened.

"Not to worry," Arielle said. "It's never the first. Try this one."

So, Harry tried. And tried. His pile of discarded wands grew larger and larger. He started to grow very weary. Surely he could just make the suggestion. He would pretend he just thought it would be a cool combination. Yeah. He would just try one more wand, then he would speak up.

He picked up the wand and felt a rush of warmth spread through his fingers. But this wasn't right. This wasn't his wand. Yet, as he lifted it into the air, a shower of red and gold sparks spewed forth from the tip.

"Oh, excellent, excellent," Arielle said, placing the wand carefully back in the box. "Ash, ten inches, with a unicorn tail hair at its core." She wrapped up the wand and offered it to him with a beaming smile.

Harry had no choice. He took the wand. As they stepped out of the shop, he realized why. His old wand had chosen him because of his link with Voldemort. Now that the link was gone, the wand had no reason to choose him.

His parents thought he still looked gloomy, so they bought him a large ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. He ate it to appease them, though it made his stomach churn.

They bought most of his other supplies without incident: books, cauldron, potion ingredients, quills, and parchment. They went for his robes last. Madam Malkin took him to have his robes fitted while his parents waited at the counter.

Draco Malfoy was not present this time. Harry had expected this. After all, it probably was not the same day he had come last time. He did a double-take, however, when he saw who was standing there: a girl with bushy brown hair.

Harry barely restrained himself from saying her name. Instead, he waited until Madam Malkin helped him onto a footstool, slipped the robes over his head, and began to pin them up. "Hello," he said.

Hermione jumped. "Oh, hi," she said. "Are you going to Hogwarts, too? It's so wonderful, isn't it? I never even dreamed that I might be able to do magic. I mean, my parents are dentists!"

Harry smiled. "You'll love Hogwarts. It's great."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You've been there? What's it like?"

Harry realized that he had messed up and quickly backtracked. "Well, I haven't been there personally. I've heard from my parents."

It was a terrible coverup, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. If anything, she looked more excited. "Your parents are a witch and wizard, too?" Then she started to look worried. "Oh, but what if I can't cut it?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Harry said.

Hermione grinned again. "You're so nice. I'm Hermione Granger. What's your name?"

"Harry Potter."

There was no sudden shock of recognition. "Well, nice to meet you, Harry," she said.

"Your parents are back, dear," Madam Malkin said to Hermione.

Hermione hopped down off her footstool. "I suppose I'll see you at Hogwarts then?"

"Yeah," Harry said. When he rejoined his parents a few minutes later, he was in a significantly better mood.

"Just one more stop," James said mysteriously as they stepped outside after buying the robes. Harry was confused at first, but then he noticed that they were heading toward Eeylops Owl Emporium. "Bit of an early birthday present."

Harry could not help but smile as they stepped into the dimly lit shop, filled with cages of screeching owls.

"Pick out any you like," James said.

But Harry had already spotted the one he wanted. He zeroed in on the snowy white owl. "That one," he said, pointing her out.

"Are you sure?" Lily said. "We're not going to come back if you change your mind."

Harry nodded. Five minutes later, he was walking down the street again, clutching Hedwig's cage in his hand. He could not stop himself from grinning now. Wormtail...the money...Ollivander...they all seemed like such trivial worries now. He was walking down the street with his parents. Nothing could outweigh that.

He should have known it was too good to last.

James' hand tightened around Harry's shoulder suddenly. "Head down, Harry," he said in a low voice. He and Lily drew up the hoods on their cloaks and quickened their pace. Harry ignored the warning, looking around for the source of their worry. He had the briefest glimpse of Lucius Malfoy walking past before James pushed his head down, forcing him to stare at the ground.

"Do you think he saw us?" Lily asked in an undertone.

"I don't know," James said. "Let's hope not."

They hurried back to the Leaky Cauldron, which was still packed. James disappeared into the crowd and returned a few minutes later with Wormtail, who looked even more tipsy than before. "Keep a look out after we go," James said. "Make sure we're not followed."

Lily went into the fire first again. Clutching Hedwig's cage, Harry followed after her. The flames swept him away, and he soon found himself back in the sitting room. Sirius was sitting on the floor with Sarah and seemed to be teaching her how to play Exploding Snap.

"Were we followed?" Lily asked the moment James stepped out of the fire.

James shook his head. "I don't think so."

"What happened?" Sirius asked.

"Lucius," was all James said.

Sirius' expression hardened and he stood up. "Need me to do a sweep?"

James shook his head. "Pete's there. He said he'd keep an eye out for us. I don't want to make trouble today."

Harry looked between the two of them, intensely confused. It made sense that his family would dislike the Malfoys, but why had Lucius provoked so much fear in his parents?

James seemed to notice Harry's confusion and glanced at Lily. She fixed him with a stern gaze and gave her head a small shake.

"I'd best be off," Sirius said. He swept Sarah up into a hug. He turned to Harry next, tousling his already messy hair. "Have fun, Harry. And don't study too much in advance. Can't have you getting too smart on us."

He looked to James, who simply patted him on the back. As Harry watched, however, he noticed James slip two galleons into Sirius' pocket.

Lily seemed to notice, too, and she frowned slightly. When Sirius turned to her though, her expression changed like the flip of a light switch. "Take care of yourself," she said, hugging him.

"I always do," Sirius said. He gave them all one last wave before stepping outside. A moment later, they heard the roar of the motorbike, which faded into the distance.

"Okay," Lily said, clapping her hands together, "Sarah, go clean your room. It was a wreck this morning, and I highly doubt you did it while we were gone. You two bring all Harry's things upstairs. I'll start dinner."

"Yes, ma'am," James said, bowing low.

Lily's lips twitched as she went to the kitchen. Harry also resisted the urge to smile.

It took three trips to carry all Harry's things up to his room. By the time they finished, it was time for dinner. Harry followed his dad back downstairs.

That night, Harry lay awake in his bed, unable to sleep. There was so much he still wanted to know about the world he had dropped into. He couldn't just ask his parents questions, of course. They would think he'd gone mad. There had to be another way to find out.

A few minutes after midnight, Harry kicked off his sheets and crossed to the door, peeking into the corridor. It was empty. He stepped out, looking at the doors around him. He had seen Sarah go into the one across the hall a few hours earlier, so he deduced that it was her room. He tried the door next to his and found a small bathroom. The door across from it led to what appeared to be the guest bedroom. Intent on exploring the rest of the house further, Harry tiptoed downstairs.

He knew that his parents' bedroom was through the door on his right. As he reached the bottom step, however, he heard hushed voices from his other side. Curious, he crept across the room, pressing himself against the wall next to the doorway that lead into the kitchen.

"...gambled away all his money. What those two need is a good dose of reality, and you're doing them no favors."

"Honestly, Lily, it's Padfoot and Moony."

There was a sharp clatter. "For God's sake, James, you're thirty-one! Call them by their real names!" There was a pause. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, but just as terse. "We can't afford to support them forever. Peter's just as bad, but at least Jess has the sense to work."

"Sirius is trying to find a job, but you know how hard it is. People don't want to hire known Order members. It's bad for business. And Remus has it doubly hard."

Another clatter. "Don't you think I know that?" Lily's voice cracked as though she was crying.

"Hey, now, don't do that. I'm sorry, all right?"

Lily seemed to hesitate again. "Dumbledore sent another owl last week."

James sighed. "You know I admire Dumbledore, but when that man gets an idea in his head—"

"I took the job."

"What? But what about—?"

"Damn it, James! We need the money!" There was a sharp intake of breath and she spoke again in a calmer voice. "I think you should try the Ministry again. Kingsley's a good man, he might be willing to help us out."

"What about Sarah?"

"If Sirius still needs a job, we can pay him to watch her while you're at work. Maybe Remus can come, too. You know he doesn't get to see the children very often."

They went silent after this. Thinking they might go to bed soon, Harry hurried back up the stairs as quietly as he could. He retreated into his room and leaned against the door. He was shaking. He never would have thought that he'd react this badly to hearing his parents fight, especially now, after he had seen so much.

Still, for the first time all day, Harry found himself feeling exactly as his younger self should have in that situation: like a scared little boy.

Harry only got a few hours of sleep that night, during which he tossed and turned constantly. When he stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, rubbing his eyes, he expected to find his parents still cold toward each other.

On the contrary, they were as cheerful as the previous morning. Harry didn't know if he was just tired and didn't notice, but neither of their expressions seemed forced. As he started eating his cereal, he calmed down a bit. Maybe things were not as bad as he thought. After all, it wasn't as though he and Ginny never fought.

Everything would be fine, he told himself. He had no idea how long he would be here. He should stop worrying and just enjoy himself while it lasted.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Please review. Next chapter: a train ride, a new friend, and a number of mysterious absences. As Harry heads off to Hogwarts, his head spins over just how different the world has become. The next update might not be as quick as this one was. I have to make sure I don't skip any important details.


	3. Chapter 3: First Day

Author's Note: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed. Looks like I managed to get this one out pretty fast after all. Enjoy.

- - - - -

Chapter 3: First Day

In spite of his eagerness to see—or rather, meet—his friends, Harry's last month with his family went by too fast. The first week was a bit rocky. Apparently, his alternate self was much more talkative than he was, as his parents asked him constantly if he was feeling all right. After searching through the small chest in his room, which contained a mismatch of toys, both Muggle and magical, he discovered that his alternate self was also obsessed with Quidditch and dragons. Once he had read through some of the books and comics on his desk, he had a couple of topics of conversation. A few well-placed facts he had read about Hungarian Horntails or details from the latest issue of _Diabolical Dragons _seemed to convince his parents that he was just fine.

In the meantime, Harry began to learned a lot about his family. He learned that his father loved chess but was not very good at it. He learned that his mother disliked chess, but whenever James managed to coax her into playing a game, she always won. He learned that his little sister Sarah loved watching Muggle children's shows on the small television in her room, and her favorite game seemed to involve having a family member chase her all around the house and, upon catching her, subject her to a merciless tickling.

He also learned that Sirius dropped in at least once a week, but otherwise, they had no visitors. Harry didn't mind though. He liked when it was just the four of them. Though he had already had a taste of what it was to have a family with Ginny, his son James, and his godson Teddy, Harry found that this was different. There, he was the one sitting up in the middle of the night, trying to coax a colicky baby back to sleep. Here, he was the one wrestling with his dad, eating the special treacle fudge his mother made for dessert on his birthday, teasing his sister about her new haircut (done by Lily, who admitted afterward that she was not very good with a pair of scissors). He did not even mind when he was scolded for not doing his chores or when Sarah stole his wand and tried to turn Hedwig pink.

By listening to his parents' conversations, Harry also started to pick up a few details about this world. They rarely discussed politics around the children, but Harry managed to glean that Rufus Scrimgeour, not Cornelius Fudge, was the Minister for Magic. Besides what he overheard the first night, Harry never heard them talk about the Order of the Phoenix. Whenever the conversation seemed to drift in that direction, one of the two would always turn to Harry or Sarah and ask them a completely unrelated question.

A week before Harry was set to go back to Hogwarts, his mother had to leave for her job. "Why can't you tell me what it is?" he asked. "Are you a professor?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Lily said, kissing his forehead and giving him a quick hug. She swept Sarah into her arms next. "Goodbye, darling," she said tearfully. "Be good for your father while I'm gone."

Sarah sniffled, her face screwed up in a scowl. She had thrown the tantrum to end all tantrums when Lily announced to the family that she was going to work at Hogwarts and had barely smiled since.

James was last, wrapping his arms tightly around Lily's shoulders. "We'll visit as often as we can," he said.

Lily nodded, kissing him lightly. When they parted, she threw Floo Powder into the fire and picked up her suitcases. With one last look back, she stepped into the flames. "Hogwarts!"

The mood during the last week was slightly dampened due to Lily's absence, but Harry still thought it was wonderful. On the night before he was set to go to Hogwarts, James attempted to cook a farewell dinner, which ended with them eating canned soup after he nearly set the kitchen on fire attempting to bake a chicken.

After they finished eating, James took Sarah upstairs to put her to bed. When he came back, Harry expected to be sent off to bed as well, but James led him to the living room instead. "We need to talk," he said, sitting on the couch and motioning for Harry to do the same.

"When we were in Diagon Alley," he continued after a moment, "do you remember the man with the blond hair we passed? It was right after I told you to keep your head down."

Harry nodded but didn't speak. He wasn't sure how much he was supposed to know, but it sounded like feigning ignorance was his best bet.

"Good, good," James said. "Now, I want you to listen very carefully, Harry. That man's name is Lucius Malfoy, and he's a very bad person."

"What did he do?" Harry asked, desperate to pick up more clues about what was going on.

"A great many things that you don't need to worry about. The point is he doesn't like us very much. Your mum and I helped put his sister-in-law—another very bad person—in Azkaban."

_Bellatrix_. Harry had to physically stop himself from saying her name out loud. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Malfoy's son is starting at Hogwarts this year, too. Now, he's still very young, so I imagine he's not much of a threat on his own, but I wouldn't put it past Malfoy to use him against us. I need you to promise me you'll be careful around him."

"I will," Harry said at once, though he was not particularly worried himself. Malfoy as an eleven year old was annoying, but he certainly wasn't dangerous.

"That's my boy," James said, patting his shoulder. He glanced at the staircase as though afraid that Sarah might be listening in and lowered his voice. "Listen, it might be a good idea not to mention this little chat to your mum. She's a little sensitive on the subject."

Harry's interest was piqued again, but he knew better than to push his luck. "Okay."

James smiled and ruffled his hair. "Now, off to bed with you. Don't want to be late for the train tomorrow."

-

When Harry got up the next morning, he intentionally packed his things slowly, saying goodbye to the house he could have grown up in. Through all of this, the thought of the Seeing Stone had remained in the back of his mind. He didn't know how much longer he would be in this alternate world. A part of him wished he could stay forever.

Harry, James, and Sarah took the Muggle underground to King's Cross. To Harry's surprise, James, in spite of being a pure-blood, seemed to know exactly what he was doing. In fact, he seemed very comfortable in the environment, even striking up a conversation about the weather with the man in the next seat.

Sarah, on the other hand, was grinning for the first time in a week. It was obviously her first time on the underground. In fact, it was the first time she had left the house since Harry had arrived. When they reached the train station, she was still tugging on James' sleeve every few moments, asking questions. "What's that thing up there? And over there? Ooh, what's that?" she asked excitedly, pointing at a cassette player in the hands of a girl her age. "Can I have one?"

By the time they reached the barrier, it was a quarter till eleven. To Harry's relief, James spotted someone he knew and struck up a conversation. Harry took the opportunity to slow down and scan the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair.

He did and held his breath as the group approached. Just as quickly as his mood shot up, however, it plummeted again.

Indeed, it was Mrs. Weasley. She was followed closely by a young Percy and Fred, but George, Ron, and Ginny were nowhere in sight. Also, there was a red-headed girl who looked about a year older than Sarah that Harry did not recognize. Then he caught a snippet of their conversation.

"Hurry along then," Mrs. Weasley said. "Ginny, stop dragging your feet."

Harry's knees nearly gave out as he stared at the little girl clinging to Mrs. Weasley's hand. _Ginny?_ What was going on?

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley caught sight of them and rushed over, children in tow. "Is this little Harry? My, you've gotten so big! You probably don't remember me. I'm Mrs. Weasley." She turned to Sarah. "And you must be Sarah. Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing?"

Sarah's smile faded at once, and she clung to the leg of James' trousers. "Daddy?"

"It's okay," James assured her. He turned to Mrs. Weasley. "How have you been, Molly?"

"Oh, very busy," Molly said. "Arthur would've been here, but he had to work. Where's Lily?"

"She's been hired on at Hogwarts."

"Well, tell her congratulations for me. Dumbledore's a hard man to please." She glanced up at the clock. "Dear me, look at the time! Come on, Percy, you first."

Harry watched as Percy and Fred disappeared into the barrier one right after the other. All too soon, it was his turn.

James wrapped him in a one-armed hug. "Try to keep yourself out of trouble. I don't want your Mum writing home about you."

"I will," Harry said. He glanced at Sarah, who was pouting again. He sighed. "Come here."

She nearly bowled him over, wrapping her tiny little arms around him as tight as she could. Harry ran his fingers over her soft red hair, the fringe still uneven from Lily's attempt to trim it, and kissed the top of her head. He knew it probably looked very strange, but he didn't care. He had only known her for a month, but when he thought that he might never see her again, his stomach clenched and it was all he could do to keep his composure.

When they parted, there was a stretch of awkward silence. Harry knew he should say something big-brotherly. After a moment of thought, he finally just tousled her hair. "Stay out of my room," he said. With one final goodbye, he settled his hands on the cart, took a deep breath, and took off toward the barrier at a run.

With only five minutes until the train left, Harry scanned the compartments quickly, looking for an empty one. He finally settled on one with only one occupant, a girl who looked to be about his age. He dragged his trunk over and tried to lift it up onto the train. Unfortunately, his muscles were those of an eleven year old, and he could barely lift it off the ground.

"Need some help?" the girl asked in a small voice.

"Yeah," Harry panted, wincing as the trunk fell on his toe.

Between the two of them, they managed to heave his trunk onto the train just as the whistle blew.

"Thanks," Harry said, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he sat down. The train gave a lurch under his feet and started to move.

The girl gave a small smile. She was a tiny thing, with rail thin arms and stringy, dishwater blond hair. Her robes were frayed at the edges and a few sizes too big. "You're welcome."

Harry stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out who she was, but he drew a blank. "My name's Harry Potter," he said.

She ducked her head. "Johanna Pettigrew," she murmured. "Most people just call me Jo."

Harry's breath caught in his chest. That was why he didn't know her. This was Wormtail's daughter. Trying to reform his face into a smile—he reminded himself that she was not responsible for who her father was—he spoke again. "I think our dads know each other."

Jo's hands fidgeted in her lap. "Yeah."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. The whole situation felt surreal. Ron was missing, Ginny was years younger than she should have been, he had no idea where Hermione was, and here he was sitting across from a girl who had not even existed to him a little over a month ago.

The door slid open suddenly and a young Neville stood on the other side. "Have you seen a toad?" he asked.

"No, sorry," Harry said automatically. At least some things never changed.

Neville looked stricken. "Oh no! Dad's gonna kill me!" He hurried off.

Harry sat bolt upright. _Dad?_ Neville's parents weren't attacked? He supposed it made sense. They had been attacked after the prophecy was made, so their situation had probably changed just as much as his. Still, it was a shock, and it also raised a new question in his mind. What had Bellatrix been sent to Azkaban for if not the attack on the Longbottoms?

When the trolley came around, Harry bought only a couple pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs with the small amount of money James had given him. When the witch asked Jo if she wanted anything, Jo just ducked her head and shook it rapidly. Feeling a bit sorry for her, Harry offered her a frog. This seemed to cheer her up slightly.

They had finished off the food and sat in silence for a long time before the door slid open again. Harry did not look up. He already knew who it was.

"Oh, look," a drawling voice said. "I didn't know they let skeletons in."

Jo flinched visible, hugging her skinny arms tightly across her stomach.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said reflexively, eyes still focused on the floor.

"How do you know my name?" Malfoy demanded.

Harry looked up to reply, but he stopped at once. He had prepared himself for seeing Malfoy as an eleven year old again, but the shock was still enough to stop any response he could have come up with. This was a Malfoy before Harry knew him, before they grew to despise each other. Even with the way he was raised, this was a Malfoy who was innocent of calling Hermione a Mudblood, of insulting Ron's family, of leading the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

"Is this the crazy compartment then?" Malfoy asked, looking a bit thrown by Harry's gawking at him.

Harry forced himself back to the present. "Everyone knows your family, Malfoy," he said.

This seemed to satisfy Malfoy. "And who are you, then?"

"Harry Potter."

A small smirk spread over Malfoy's face, as though he recognized the name. When he opened his mouth to reply, however, he just said, "I'll leave you to your little pet then. Crabbe, Goyle." He turned and disappeared from view, followed by Crabbe and Goyle

"Don't pay any attention to him," Harry said. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

But Jo didn't even look up, her eyes brimming with tears. "I shouldn't even be here," she said in a small, trembling voice. "I've never done a single bit of magic. I think I'm a Squib."

"That's ridiculous," Harry said. "You wouldn't have been called to Hogwarts if you were a Squib."

This seemed to do little to make her feel better. She was still crying softly when two figures appeared in the doorway again.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said. "Neville here's lost his toad. Have you—?" She stopped when she saw Jo, cocking her head to one side. "Are you all right?"

"Malfoy insulted her," Harry said, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Draco Malfoy?" Hermione said. "Yeah, I met up with him, too. He was horrible to Neville." She sat down next to Jo. "My name's Hermione."

"Jo," was all Jo managed to get out.

"I'm going to go see if the witch with the cart has seen my toad," Neville said. He went to the next compartment.

"I'm so excited to start classes," Hermione said. "What house do you think you'll be in?"

"Gryffindor," Harry said at once.

Hermione nodded. "That seems like a really good house. Ravenclaw would be fun, too. What about you, Jo?"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," Jo said, still sniffling.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I've been reading about the houses in _Hogwarts, a History_. Hufflepuff has a very fascinating history."

"My mum and dad were in Gryffindor. They'll be so dis..disappointed." Her voice cracked again.

"Hey," Harry said, "don't worry about it. I'm sure they'll be happy no matter what house you're in."

To his surprise, Jo let out a choked laugh. "Not Slytherin. They'd disown me."

Harry smirked. "Well, yeah. My parents wouldn't like that either. They were Gryffindors, too."

Hermione changed the subject to classes. As they neared Hogwarts, Jo seemed to relax some and began to talk more. By the time the train came to a halt, her tears had dried up.

Outside, Harry's heart rose when he heard a familiar voice. "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" Hagrid towered over the students, beckoning for the first years to follow him. Jo seemed terrified of Hagrid, but Harry gave her an encouraging smile as they followed him to the water's edge where the fleet of boats were waiting.

"Four to a boat," Hagrid said. He found Neville's toad and gave it back to him.

Harry got into a boat with the Hermione, Neville, and Jo. As they rode up to the castle, he could not help but look around in awe with the others. How long had it been since he was last here? He had a vague memory of going to visit Neville, now Professor Longbottom, but he could not remember when.

They got out of the boats in the small harbor by the school and filed up the stairs into the Entrance Hall. The sounds of people talking in the Great Hall drifted out as they were led into the small, side room.

Professor McGonagall was in a somber mood when she arrived. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly," she said. "You will be sorted into one of the four houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. If you'll please follow me."

As the students started to follow her, Harry's mind was racing. Why was she acting this way? Had something happened? By the time he reached the Great Hall, his confidence had melted away, and he felt just as nervous as he had the first time he was Sorted.

The Great Hall was the same bustle of activity it always was. Students were chatting all around them. Harry noticed, however, that the Slytherin table seemed unusually subdued. If he was not mistaken, there were far fewer older students than there should have been. He looked up towards the staff table, expecting to see the same Professors he remembered. He saw his mother sitting there, but that was not what made him do a double-take.

She was talking to Professor Quirrell.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest. He had forgotten all about Professor Quirrell. This was bad. Very bad. Harry stood in the line, trying to keep a handle on his panic.

Professor McGonagall returned with the Sorting Hat and its spindly stool. After the hat finished its song, she unfurled the list of students and started calling them up one by one.

The next hitch came when "Bulstrode, Millicent" was sorted into Slytherin. Nobody clapped. Bulstrode took the hat off and strode over to the table with a blank expression. The same was true of Crabbe and Goyle, though they did seem slightly prouder of their assignment to Slytherin.

When Hermione was called up, the hat took several minutes before it finally announced her as a Gryffindor. Though Harry had expected this, he felt a certain relief to hear it.

More students were sorted. When Malfoy became a Slytherin, he gave the somber hall a smug look before going to join his table.

When Professor McGonagall finally called off Jo's name, she looked like she might faint. "You'll be fine," Harry whispered.

By some miracle, Jo managed to make it to the stool. The hat fell over her eyes and she sat trembling. After several moments of silence, the hat finally made its pronouncement.

"Gryffindor!"

Jo took the hat off and nearly sprinted to the table, taking the empty seat next to Hermione.

"Potter, Harry."

Harry started forward. There were no whispers. He glanced up at the staff table, but Lily seemed to be the only one who was intensely interested. Even Professor Dumbledore watched with only the same passive interest he had while the others were Sorted. Harry sat on the stool and the hat dropped over his eyes, blocking out everything.

"Well, well, well," a voice said in his ear, "someone doesn't belong."

Harry's heart slammed into his throat. The hat could see into his mind. It knew about the Seeing Stone.

"Relax," the hat said. "Your secret's safe with me. But, ah, where to put you?"

_Just say Gryffindor_, Harry thought furiously. _Get it over with_.

"Are you sure? This would be the perfect time for a change. I see a lot of ambition in you..."

Harry gripped the sides of the stool, squeezing his eyes shut, repeating one word over and over in his mind. _Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor_...

"I can see there's no changing your mind. All right. Better be..._Gryffindor!_"

Harry let out a rush of air and stood on shaky legs, taking the hat off as applause broke out in the hall. Lily was positively beaming as he moved to take the seat across from Jo, who looked just as relieved as he was.

"Good for you, Harry," Hermione said in an undertone.

Harry was hardly listening, however. He was watching the Sorting with baited breath as the last of the alphabet dwindled down. Surely they would call Ron's name. They had to see that there was some mistake.

"Zabini, Blaise."

Harry watched his last hope slip away as the last student stepped up to be sorted into Slytherin. There was only one reason Ron's name would not to be called.

There was no Ron.

Dumbledore stood, gave his short introduction, and then clapped his hands. The empty plates before them filled. The others at the table reached eagerly for the food, but Harry could only stare at it, bile rising in his throat. How could he face Hogwarts without Ron?

He glanced back up at the staff table. Lily was talking to Quirrell again. She seemed to be agreeing with something he was saying. Now that Harry paid attention, there was something different about Quirrell. He didn't seem as nervous as Harry remembered him. Then again, his nervousness had been a show...

The bottom fell out of Harry's stomach. Of course. How could he have missed it? Quirrell wasn't wearing his turban. That meant Voldemort was not possessing him. In fact, it was quite likely that Quirrell was not even serving him.

But that was not the realization that sent cold waves through Harry and kept him from answering when Hermione asked if he was okay. Suddenly, he understood quite a bit. Why his parents were so skittish of Lucius Malfoy. Why McGonagall seemed so somber. Why the Slytherins were so ostracized. He raised a hand to his forehead, unconsciously rubbing the spot where his lightning scar should have been. How could he have been so naïve? There was only one result he could have expected from wishing away the prophecy.

Voldemort was still at the height of power.

Harry was in a stupor through the rest of dinner. Even as the last bits of food cleared away and Dumbledore began to speak again, he could barely force himself to pay attention. A snippet of the speech reached him loud and clear, however.

"...welcome Professor Potter, who will teach Potions this term..."

Harry's head snapped up. _Potions?_ That was impossible. And yet...

He suddenly felt very lightheaded. Ron, Quirrell, Voldemort, Snape...it was all too much to process. He had the vague sensation of falling backwards as his vision went dark.

-

"Back up, everyone. Give him some air. Are you all right, Potter?"

Voices whispered all around Harry as his eyes fluttered open. He was lying on the floor of the Great Hall next to the Gryffindor table. His head ached where it had smacked against the stones. Professor McGonagall crouched beside him, gently gripping his shoulder. A crowd of people had gathered behind her, craning their necks to get a look at him.

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, struggling to sit up. He still felt rather woozy.

Professor McGonagall helped him stand. "We'll have you checked out by Madam Pomfrey just to be sure." She raised her voice to address the crowd. "Off to your dormitories! Clear a path!"

Harry put up no objections as she led him away; in fact, he hardly even noticed. Now that he knew Voldemort was alive and well, everything else was starting to fall into place. Quirrell had not happened across Voldemort during his travels; therefore, he was not a servant of him. Snape was not the Potions professor because he had not overheard the prophecy and warned Dumbledore that Voldemort was going to attack the Potters. In fact, Snape was probably still a full Death Eater.

When they reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey made Harry lie down while she checked his vitals. "Too much excitement," she muttered, examining his head.

The door burst open at that moment and Lily came rushing in. "Is he okay?" she asked frantically.

"He'll be fine," Madam Pomfrey said. "He'll have a headache for a while, but there doesn't seem to be any damage. I'd like to keep him overnight for observation, of course."

Lily nodded. "Thank you." Once Madam Pomfrey had gone, she sank into a chair at Harry's bedside. "You scared the daylights out of me."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

Lily smiled and brushed the hair from his forehead. "I'm just glad you're all right," she said.

In spite of the thoughts spinning in his mind, Harry relaxed a bit, his eyes closing. He felt his mother's hand settle over his, a welcome reminder that she was still there.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Please review. Next chapter: a Potions lesson, a surprise visit, and a mysterious cloaked figure. New surprises await Harry during his first week at Hogwarts.


	4. Chapter 4: Tea and Terror

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I had someone ask how much time this story's going to cover. I'm not going to give an exact answer, since I don't want to spoil anything, but I can assure you that it won't play out the entire seven years at Hogwarts. I don't have enough plot to cover that big of a time span. That said, enjoy.

- - - - -

Chapter 4: Tea and Terror

"Hey, look. It's the boy who passed out at the feast."

"Yeah...what's his name again?"

"Potter."

"Potter? Is he related to the new Potions professor?"

"Probably. So, what d'you think's wrong with him?"

Whispered conversations followed Harry wherever he went on his first day of classes. Completely anonymous the previous day, he had been elevated to almost celebrity status, though hardly anyone seemed to remember his full name. When he sat down to meals, people kept giving him odd looks, as though they thought he might pass out again at any moment.

Oddly, Jo seemed more upset by the extra attention Harry was getting than he was. From the time he showed up at breakfast the first morning, she followed him around like a shadow. In fact, the only person she seemed brave enough to talk to besides him was Hermione.

Harry had expected that he would at least have an easy time with his classes, but he soon found his assumptions false. He remembered most of what he had learned in first year, so answering teachers' questions was easy enough, but using spells was quite a different story. It almost seemed as though the magic had been drained out of him. He even had trouble in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was decidedly more interesting than he remembered. Without his fake stutter and air of constant fearfulness, Quirrell was actually a fairly good teacher, showing them how to cast defensive spells instead of just teaching theory. In spite of practicing outside of class and even asking Hermione for help, Harry only managed to relearn a few spells during his first week.

"You're doing fine," Hermione told him several times a day. "Just keep working at it."

Jo did not seem to be faring well either. Even with both Harry and Hermione's help, her fear that she was a Squib was starting to look more and more likely. This combined with a clumsiness that made her drop things almost constantly in Herbology made Harry wonder what would happen when she and Neville were thrown into a Potions class together. Then again, Neville, though still a little shaky in many of his classes, seemed much more confident than Harry remembered. Harry thought it must have something to do with growing up with his parents rather than his grandmother.

Their first double-Potions lesson was on Friday morning right after breakfast. Harry walked down to the class with the others in silence. He had only told Hermione and Jo that Lily was his mother, but the other students seemed to have assumed the truth anyway. Harry was determined not to give them any reason to think Lily might favor him.

The Potions classroom was as dank and dreary as ever. Harry took a seat near the back of the room, unsurprised when Jo quickly claimed the chair next to his. He could see Malfoy whispering to Goyle and pointing at him, but he tried to ignore them.

The door opened a few moments after everyone was seated, and the entire class went quiet. Even Harry was stunned as Lily stepped into the room. Her hair, which she normally wore down, had been drawn back into a tight bun. Her green eyes, usually bright and warm, were now serious, though not necessarily unkind.

She started by calling roll. She was very efficient, only calling off the person's last name and looking up briefly to confirm they were present. Harry's ears burned when she reached his name, but she gave him the same courtesy glance as everyone else and continued on. When she finished, she rolled up the scroll and set it on the desk, surveying the students.

"This may be one of the most difficult subjects you face in this school," she said after a moment. She did not speak loudly, but her voice still rang clearly through the silence. "Some of you may find you have an affinity for it. Others, not. I don't care what skill level you're at now or at the end of the term. What matters to me is progress. In order to pass this class, you must prove that you have improved your skills in some way.

"I will not tolerate any rule-breaking in my class. You are to do exactly as you're told with no back-talking. Working with potions is very dangerous. One slip could be fatal. Now..." She waved her wand at the board, where a set of instructions for a wart-treatment potion appeared. "...let us begin."

Harry could tell from glancing down the list that the potion was very simple, but he was determined not to make it look like it was too easy for him. Since he was sitting at the table with Jo, she was his assigned partner. Not wanting to wind up with a melted cauldron either, Harry took charge and had her prepare the ingredients while he added them in the correct order.

Even this turned out to be a very bad idea. Over the course of the lesson, Jo managed to cut her finger while chopping caterpillars, smash another finger while crushing beetles, and drop a vial of armadillo bile on the floor. Though he was a bit annoyed, Harry reassured her that it was fine, and managed to brew a decent attempt at the potion from the ingredients she prepared. The color was a little off from the light green it should have been, which Harry suspected was from the spot of blood that had gotten mixed in when Jo cut herself. Lily, who was walking around the room giving pointers, complimented their potion as she passed by and waved her wand over Jo's finger to heal the cut.

Harry was surprised that the class managed to go by without a hitch. Neville even managed to go the entire lesson without melting Seamus' cauldron, though their potion did come out looking more like sludge than anything else. Hermione brewed a perfect potion, as expected, earning Gryffindor five house points.

"Not bad for a first day," Lily said at the end of the lesson. "For next week, I want a well-developed essay on the properties of base antidotes."

After leaving the dungeons, Harry walked to the Great Hall with Hermione and Jo. "I'm hopeless," Jo said, staring glumly at the floor.

"You just need practice is all," Harry assured her. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

Jo seemed to lighten up a bit, at least enough that she was able to eat lunch. The first year Gryffindors had afternoons free, so they went up to the Gryffindor common room afterwards, where Harry and Jo started a game of chess.

"Your mum's a good teacher," Hermione said. She was sitting at the table with them, one eye on the game and the other on notes she was taking from _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. "I bet you're really proud."

"I'd hate it," Jo said, moving a knight. Harry was surprised to find that she was a fairly decent chess player, though not nearly as good as Ron. "All those people staring at me, whispering behind my back."

Harry shrugged. People whispering behind his back was nothing new to him. It was actually refreshing that it was for something that had nothing to do with Voldemort. "I'm just glad it's the weekend," he said. He could relax for a couple of days now. Maybe even go visit...

_No,_ Harry thought to himself. He couldn't visit Hagrid. He had forgotten that, in this timeline, Hagrid had not taken him to get his school things. The gamekeeper probably didn't even know his name.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, looking excited, "I think I'll get a head start in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall said we were going to move up to turning beetles into buttons next."

After the chess game was over (Harry won, but it was a very close game), Hermione convinced them that they should work on their homework a bit before dinner. Harry finished his Charms essay quickly and helped Jo with hers, ignoring the exasperated look Hermione gave him. By the time they finished, it was time to go down to the Great Hall.

As they descended the last staircase, the three found a surprise waiting for them. A long line of older students wound its way around the Entrance Hall, seeming to range from fifth years (Percy Weasley among them) through seventh years. Professor McGonagall stood at the doors, examining the left arm of a burly seventh year Ravenclaw. She held a large scroll in one hand and a quill in the other. Professors Flitwick and Quirrell stood on either side of the double doors like guards, their wands drawn.

McGonagall made a check on the scroll. "You're fine, Devon. Go on through." She spotted Harry, Hermione, and Jo watching her and waved them in as well. "Move along, you three."

The three stepped around her and into the Great Hall, exchanging puzzled looks. Most of the students inside were fourth year and younger, and the plates on the tables were still bare of food.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked Fred.

"Dark Mark checks," Fred replied, "by order of the Ministry. They do them about once a month."

Hermione looked confused, but Harry spoke before she could. "Dumbledore agreed to this?"

"Well, yeah," Fred said as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "The Ministry would've shut Hogwarts down if he didn't."

"I think it's a load of rubbish," Lee Jordan said. "Why don't they just chuck out all the Slytherins and get it over with?"

"They are an unpleasant lot, aren't they?" Hermione said, glancing at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was muttering something to Crabbe, his lips curled into a smirk.

"Have they found any Death Eaters yet?" Harry asked.

"Not that I know of," Fred said. "I mean, everyone knows about the checks, so I don't imagine they'd stick around if they had the Mark."

It was another half an hour before all of the students were finally seated. The professors took their places at the staff table and dinner began as though nothing had happened. Harry ate very little that night and did not speak to the others, the wheels in his mind turning. If the Ministry was already making demands of Dumbledore, things must be worse than he'd thought. Harry wished he could go ask Dumbledore what was going on, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Harry was not the boy who lived anymore. He was just another student. Any concerns he had would barely register for Dumbledore, especially if things were really as bad as Harry feared.

As dinner went on and people started to leave for their dormitories, Professor McGonagall approached the Gryffindor table. "Mr. Potter," she said, "a word?"

Harry glanced around at the others, who just shrugged. He stood and followed Professor McGonagall out of the Hall, wondering what he had done. To his surprise, she did not take him upstairs. Instead, she led him down a side corridor, where Lily was waiting for him.

"Thank you, Minerva," Lily said. Once Professor McGonagall had gone, she smiled at Harry. "I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends. How was your first week?"

"It was okay," Harry said, still a bit wary.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know your dad and Sarah will be visiting for tea tomorrow afternoon," she said. "I want you down in my office around three o'clock. You can invite a couple of friends if you want."

Harry nodded, his spirits rebounding.

"So?" Lily prompted. "How did you like the lesson?"

"It was great," Harry said at once. "Hermione said you were a really good teacher."

Lily's smile broadened. "Well, I'll try not to let that go to my head. Okay, I suppose I'll let you go back to your friends." She patted his shoulder and set off, disappearing around a corner.

"Oh, that'll be fun," Hermione said when Harry rejoined her and Jo in the common room. "It'll be so interesting to meet a grown wizard. I mean, one who's not a professor."

Jo was not as enthusiastic. "Your mum won't want me there," she said in a small voice. "My dad says she doesn't like him."

"Even if she doesn't, that won't matter," Harry said, though he was a bit worried himself. How would Lily react to him being friends with Wormtail's daughter?

The next afternoon, the three of them walked down to the dungeons together. Lily's office was where Snape's had been. It looked much the same as it had when he used it, with its various specimens floating in jars, though a fair number of these had been cleared out and replaced with several shelves of books. A table had been set up in the middle of the room, however, and the presence of Lily, James, and Sarah, lightened the atmosphere considerably.

James strode over to Harry at once, clapping him on the shoulder. "There's my boy," he said. "Fourth generation Gryffindor, naturally. I knew you could do it, son."

Harry smiled, feeling the color rise in his cheeks. "Hi, Dad," he said. "This is—"

"Little Johanna Pettigrew, of course," James said, smiling warmly at Jo, who looked like she wanted to run. He turned to Hermione. "And you must be Hermione Granger."

"Yes," Hermione said, looking a bit surprised.

James winked at her. "Lily told me," he explained. He looked over his shoulder. "Sarah, come say hello."

The next hour went by without a hitch. Hermione chatted merrily with James about various facets of the wizarding world while Sarah gave her mother a dramatic reenactment of something she had seen on a Muggle television show. Harry tried a number of times to get Jo to talk, but she only answered his questions shortly before falling silent again and bowing her head. After James' initial greeting, Harry's parents did not seem particularly eager to speak to her either.

"Well," James said to Harry at one point, "our esteemed professor here tells me you and Hermione have a talent for potions." He sounded impressed, though Harry thought he detected a hint of disappointment.

Hermione grinned. "Well, it's really a fascinating subject," she said. "I was looking into some of the more advanced antidotes for my essay. That Pepperup Potion sounds really useful."

After they finished tea, Hermione announced that she needed to finish her essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Jo followed quickly after her without explanation, leaving the Potters alone.

"Harry," James said, "why don't you take your sister outside for a bit?"

Harry nodded to show he understood. "Come on," he said, ruffling Sarah's hair. "I'll show you the giant squid."

"Be careful out there," Lily warned.

When they stepped outside the office, however, Harry hesitated. If Sarah had not been there, he would have pressed his ear against the door to see if he could hear what his parents were talking about. His sister seemed incredibly excited about seeing the squid though, so he reluctantly led her up the steps and outside.

A number of students were out on the grounds, enjoying one of the last warm Saturdays of the year. A few gave Harry and Sarah curious looks as they passed, but nobody spoke to either of them as they made their way down to the lake. The squid was floating up near the shore, sunning itself. Sarah giggled and said it was funny, but she soon became bored with it. She amused herself instead with collecting as many rocks as she could find and seeing how far she could throw them before they fell into the lake with a splash.

Harry, meanwhile, walked around idly, making sure to keep Sarah in sight at all times. He felt as though there were two forces tugging on his emotions. On the one hand, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about everyone who was missing from this world. He kept expecting to wake up to the sound of James crying, to look to his left and see Ginny sleeping beside him. Even when he woke up to the dormitory, he found himself glancing at the empty spot where Ron's bed should have been. He was also terrified of the prospect of a world where Voldemort was at full power and he was reduced to the level of a first year student.

Yet, at the same time, here was the life he had never known. His parents alive and well. A little sister he had never even dreamed he might have. A friend who had never existed and whose father, though not perfect by any means, was not a servant of Voldemort. A life where he was not gawked at by everyone he passed because of something he did not even remember.

Harry shook his head. He could not allow himself to fall too deeply into this life. He had to keep a handle on who he was. He could pretend that he was an eleven year old, but he had to remember deep down that he wasn't. Otherwise, he knew he would not be able to handle losing it all when he was inevitably sent back to the real world.

As Harry passed within feet of the Forbidden Forest, something moved out of the corner of his eye. He caught a brief glimpse of a black cloak as whatever it was disappeared into the dark depths of the forest. Harry reached for his wand, but before he had even drawn it, he knew he couldn't go in. He was not an Auror anymore. He tucked the wand back into pocket.

"Sarah!" he called, hurrying back to her. "We're going inside!"

"But..." Sarah's objections fell short when she saw Harry's expression, her eyes filling with confusion and fear.

Harry grabbed her hand and walked as fast as he could, forcing her to run just to keep up. He was sure people were staring at them again, but he didn't even look around this time. He was almost to the steps when the front door opened and his parents stepped out.

"What is it, Harry?" James asked at once as he and Lily rushed down to meet them.

"I saw someone in the forest," Harry said.

Lily paled significantly and looked at James. He nodded grimly and beckoned Sarah to him. "Come on, sweetie," he said. "Time to go."

Sarah, red in the face and still terrified, ran up to James and threw her arms around his neck, letting him lift her up off the ground. "Will you be all right?" James asked Lily.

Lily nodded. Once James had gone back in, she drew her wand and turned to Harry. "Go to the Great Hall," she said. "Tell the first professor you find what you saw. Then I want you to do as they say." She did not wait for a reply, hurrying over to the nearest group of students to order them back inside, too.

Harry ascended the stairs and broke into a run, not even slowing down when he reached the Great Hall. Many students had already arrived for dinner, along with several professors. Harry's eyes sought out Dumbledore at once and he zeroed in on the headmaster.

"Someone...forest..." Harry gasped, clutching the table with both hands.

"Calm yourself, dear boy," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice, fixing Harry with a friendly but serious gaze. "Take a deep breath."

Harry did, and was enough to steady his voice. "I saw someone in the forest," he said faintly.

Dumbledore stood. The quiet whispers that had started after Harry's sudden entrance fell silent instantly. "Everyone is to return to their dormitories at once," Dumbledore said.

There was a short pause, as though everyone thought Dumbledore might continue. Then, a bustle of activity erupted behind Harry as everyone started for the doors.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, "go outside and round up any wandering students. Pomona and Filius, alert Hagrid and do a sweep of the grounds..."

"'Everyone' includes you, Potter," Professor McGonagall said as Dumbledore continued, taking Harry by the arm and leading him out of the Great Hall.

"My mum's out there," Harry said.

"Professor Potter can take care of herself," Professor McGonagall said, releasing his arm and pointing toward the staircase. "I'm sure she would feel more secure knowing her son is safe." She drew her wand and hurried out the front door.

Unable to do anything else, Harry trudged up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, feeling more helpless than he had in years. It seemed that word had travelled fast, as he saw no one in the corridors on his way.

The moment Harry stepped into the common room, he was nearly knocked backward, a pair of skinny arms wrapping around him. "Harry!" Jo exclaimed. "You're okay!"

"What's going on out there?" Hermione asked as Jo backed away, looking quite embarrassed.

Harry told them what he had seen. The entirety of Gryffindor seemed to be listening in on their conversation.

"What does it mean?" Jo asked. "Are we under attack?"

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I mean, I only saw one person." But his heart was hammering in his chest. What if that one person was Voldemort? He unconsciously rubbed his forehead. He never thought he would wish for his scar back, but at least then he would know for sure.

Everyone seemed to have questions for him, most wanting to know if he caught a look at the person's face. Luckily, after the sixth time he said no, people seemed to take the hint and left him alone. The room remained crowded, however, and grew increasingly louder as the students discussed various conspiracy theories.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked Harry. "Do you need to sit down?" It seemed a silly question to ask, since there was not a single free chair.

"I'm fine," Harry said, leaning against the wall to steady himself

About an hour after he arrived, food was sent up to the common rooms from the kitchens. People did not eat very much, however, and when Professor McGonagall walked in half an hour later, everyone went silent, waiting for her announcement.

"No one is to leave the Tower until morning," she said. "Until further notice, no one is to be on the grounds in groups smaller than three for any reason. I encourage everyone to be cautious at all times."

"Did they catch anyone?" Harry asked.

"Not yet." Professor McGonagall climbed out the portrait hole before anyone else could question her.

"If it's You-Know-Who, they won't catch him," a fourth year said knowingly.

"Dumbledore could catch him," a second year piped up.

"Oh, grow up, Wilson," a fifth year said. "If he could, he would have already."

"Don't say that! Dumbledore's a great wizard!"

A scuffle broke out, the crowd's cheers punctuated by Percy Weasley shouting, "Stop it, both of you! I'm a Prefect!"

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione shouted over the noise. "I'm going to bed!" She fought her way through the crowd toward the dormitory stairs. Jo glanced at Harry once before hurrying after her.

Harry went up to his own dormitory moments later, eager to escape the crowd. He shut the door and leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut. A steady pulse was beating at the base of his skull, sending wave after wave of nauseating pain through his head. Fear gnawed away at the pit of his stomach, making him feel as though he might be sick. He had faced and defeated Voldemort before, but this was different. Then he had been a seventeen-year-old wizard, and he had gone into the battle having destroyed all of the Horcruxes and knowing that Voldemort could not hurt him with the Elder Wand. Now he was just a scared little eleven year old faced with the prospect of a Voldemort who was at full power and, in all likelihood, had six intact Horcruxes.

The only consolation Harry had was that since there was no prophecy, Voldemort had no reason to come after him. Somehow, the thought was not very comforting.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Please review. Next chapter: books, lessons, and a fight. Harry's situation goes downhill fast as he begins to lose control.


	5. Chapter 5: The Flying Lesson

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Not really anything to note this time, so enjoy.

- - - - -

Chapter 5: The Flying Lesson

At breakfast the next morning, Dumbledore announced the restriction on walking the grounds and added a new curfew of eight o'clock. Though Harry thought it was a rather good idea, he couldn't help but identify with his complaining classmates, especially when Dumbledore gave no explanation about what had happened in the forest. From the grim expressions on the professors' faces, Harry surmised that they didn't catch anyone.

Jo seemed to have reached the same conclusion, as she looked positively terrified. "What if they get inside?" she asked.

"I'm sure the teachers can take care of it," Hermione said, though she did not sound entirely convinced.

Harry didn't speak. If this was the same as his actual first year, he would have known that it was Quirrell. Even now, he cast a suspicious glance at the staff table. Quirrell was deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall. He still had a full head of hair with no turban and didn't have even a hint of a nervous tic.

After he finished eating, Harry retreated to the library. He told the other two that he was working on homework (Hermione looked at him with admiration when he said this), but when he arrived, he went straight for the books on magical artifacts, carrying as many as he could back to a table. Needing to feel as though he was doing something useful, Harry spent the rest of the day scanning indexes for any mention of Seeing Stones, pausing only for lunch.

Unfortunately, it seemed the elder Hermione was right. Almost every book had an entry on Seeing Stones, but the information was all very general and some books had relegated the stones to legend. There was nothing about time travel or being sucked into an alternate reality much less how to get back. The most promising thing he found was a list of historical wizards who had supposedly owned them, the last of whom had died over a hundred years ago. Harry took out a piece of parchment and jotted down the names, intent on looking them up later. He replaced the books on the shelves and went down to dinner.

-

On Monday morning, the Gryffindors woke to find a post announcing that flying lessons with the Slytherins would start on Thursday. Harry soon found himself surrounded by classmates who could talk of nothing else. Hermione, just as he remembered, took to spending all of her free time in the library, reading every book she could find on flying and giving out tips to the other students. Jo, on the other hand, was even more quiet than usual. The only person she would speak to was Harry.

"What if I fall off?" she asked in a quick whisper between classes.

"Just keep your grip and you'll be fine," Harry replied for what seemed the fiftieth time. He was starting to become very weary of Jo, but he didn't have the heart to tell her to go away. She had latched onto him from the moment they spoke on the train, and it seemed no one else had the patience to deal with her. Hermione tried, but Harry had the distinct impression that her enthusiasm scared Jo.

In the meantime, Malfoy seemed to have picked out Jo as his official target, and the rest of the Slytherin first years followed suit. She was teased constantly for her ineptness. She seemed to have realized though that they tended to leave her alone when Harry was around. In fact, beyond the occasional pointing and whispering, Malfoy had taken to pretending that Harry did not exist. Harry wondered about this for a while, but he soon realized that it was probably due to his mother being a professor. He was rather glad for it, as dealing with an eleven year old's taunts was one of the last things he needed right now.

-

At breakfast on Thursday, Harry paid no attention to the chatter around him, his eyes scanning a passage about a wizard named Archibald Crystallus in _Famous Wizards of Medieval Britain_. Apparently Crystallus was rather infamous for Muggle-baiting, selling enchanted objects to Muggles. His name featured prominently on many lists of alleged Seeing Stone owners, but Harry had yet to find any mention of such in his biographies.

Hermione was sitting a few seats away from Harry, staring glumly at her plate. He knew why she was upset. They had received their Charms essays back the day before, and Harry had scored higher than her. It had been completely unintentional, of course. When Professor Flitwick announced to the class that Harry had done so well, he felt himself turn scarlet and a quick glance at Hermione filled him with a wash of guilt. He knew it wasn't fair. He had gone through six years of Hogwarts plus Auror training. Hermione had only known she was a witch for a couple of months at the most. He also knew that what he was doing was potentially dangerous. If he continued to turn in homework that was well above the level of a first year, especially when he didn't have the magical ability to back it up, he might draw suspicion.

That afternoon, the first years hurried out onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. Madam Hooch and the Slytherins were already there, along with about twenty broomsticks.

Harry barely listened to Madam Hooch's speech. He knew how to fly already. When she had them put their hands out over their brooms and say "Up," he was pleased to find that his jumped into his hand the first time just as it had before. As he mounted the broom and waited for Madam Hooch to count off, his mind wandered back to the library, where he would be returning after this lesson ended.

By the time Harry remembered what was to happen, it was already too late. Neville kicked off too soon and soared into the air, rising higher and higher. Harry stared up at him with the others, stricken mute and awash with guilt for not remembering in time. He knew what would happen. He saw it play out in his mind before Neville even slipped off the side of the broom.

When Harry heard the dull _thump_ of the body hitting the ground, he flinched. He could not even bear to watch as Madam Hooch helped Neville up and led him away. Her words were drowned out by the rushing in his ears, but after they had gone, Malfoy's laughter rang through clearly.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry had already started speaking before Malfoy even finished.

The Slytherins who had started laughing stopped short. Malfoy stepped forward. "Why? You going to tell your _mummy_ on me?" The chuckles resumed.

"Maybe he will," Hermione said, obviously not realizing that Malfoy was being sarcastic.

"Ooh," Malfoy said, faking a shudder.

Harry's mind was elsewhere, however. He had expected the flying lesson to go exactly the same as he remembered, but there was one crucial detail missing. His eyes swept the ground, but he already knew the Remembrall wasn't there, because Neville had not received it that morning as he should have. Any hope Harry had of being able to play Quidditch was dashed.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had rounded on Jo again, taking a step toward her, a bold move that planted him right in front of Harry. "You planning to outdo Longbottom then, Pettigrew?" he asked with a smirk. "Thinking on breaking your neck?"

Harry saw the tears well up in Jo's eyes, and he snapped. He shoved Malfoy roughly away from him. Malfoy stumbled back a few steps, looking shocked. Next thing Harry knew, they were both on the ground kicking and punching at each other. Harry's mind burned with such a fury, he barely noticed the people shouting over him and Hermione yelling at him to stop. Even when he felt hands prying him off of Malfoy, Harry tried to lunge at him again, his chest heaving with every breath. His eyes were stinging, but his arms were being restrained, so he could not wipe them. He squinted blearily and saw that Malfoy was being held back by Madam Hooch. He was sporting a black eye.

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves!" Madam Hooch said, her face contorted with fury.

"I'll deal with them," Professor McGonagall's stern voice said from somewhere above Harry. "I'll let you get back to your lesson."

Madam Hooch nodded and released Malfoy. Professor McGonagall let go of Harry's arms, but she immediately seized both boys by the back of the robes and marched them toward the school. Behind them, Harry heard Madam Hooch's voice calling for their classmates' attention fade into the distance.

Harry wiped his eyes as McGonagall jostled them along and glanced down to find spots of blood on his fingertips. He gingerly touched his head and winced as he felt the deep cut over his eyebrow where Malfoy had gotten in a lucky shot with his bony knuckles. Harry thought he might have bruised a rib or two as well.

Madam Pomfrey, who had just finished mending Neville's wrist, directed them both into beds immediately, shaking her head. "Fighting already," she muttered. "Hold still, Mr. Malfoy." Malfoy had pulled his arm away from her. A cut just below his elbow was bleeding freely.

"Explain yourselves," Professor McGonagall said, her lips set in a thin line.

"Potter attacked me!" Malfoy said.

"Is that true, Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but his throat seemed to have seized up. He gaped for a few moments before turning his gaze downward, staring at his hands.

"Ten points will be taken from your houses," Professor McGonagall said, "and you'll both receive a detention. And I'll be informing your Head of House, Malfoy." Malfoy paled slightly at this. In the absence of Professor Snape, Professor Sinistra, the rather strict Astronomy teacher, was Head of Slytherin. "If I hear that you two have been fighting again, I might not be so lenient."

Professor McGonagall left just as Madam Pomfrey reached Harry, examining the cut on his head. He put up no resistance. He was shaking from head to foot, but it was no longer from rage. He didn't know what came over him. He attacked Malfoy. Not only that, he attacked an _eleven-year-old_ Malfoy. Even when he was younger, he rarely let Malfoy wind him up that badly. He should have had more control over himself.

"That's you two done," Madam Pomfrey said. "Off with you." She moved back to check on Neville, who was mouthing, "What happened?" at Harry.

The moment Harry and Malfoy stepped out of the hospital wing, a voice sounded in Harry's ear. "Harry." He whirled around to see Lily standing over him, her arms crossed over her chest. "I'd like to see you in my office."

Malfoy smirked at Harry and set off down the hall.

Harry dejectedly followed after his mother, wishing everyone would just leave him alone. He felt bad enough already.

Lily waved him into the office first. She shut and locked the door behind them. "Well?" she said. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry finally found his voice, though it seemed to have weakened significantly in its absence. "I'm sorry."

Apparently this was the wrong answer, as Lily's expression became exasperated. "What's gotten into you? Your father and I taught you better than this. Well, _I_ taught you better than this, anyway."

"He made Jo cry, Mum," Harry said, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself.

"Then you tell a professor. You do _not_ under _any_ circumstances attack another student. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, staring at the floor.

Lily sighed. "Very well. You may go." She moved to her desk, shifting through the scrolls of parchment on top.

Harry didn't move. He glanced up. "Can I ask a question?"

She stopped, looking back at him curiously. "Of course."

"Did they find the person in the forest?"

The curiosity turned into a frown. "Not yet," she said shortly.

"Do they have any idea who it could be?"

Lily just shook her head, squeezing his shoulder. "It's nothing for you to worry yourself over. No one can get into this castle undetected." She turned back to her desk.

This did not set Harry at ease in the least, but he could tell that was the end of the conversation. He left the dungeons, heading up to the Great Hall for dinner. He was one of the first ones there.

Harry was picking at his shepherd's pie when the other Gryffindors and Slytherins returned from their flying lesson. The popular topic of conversation seemed to be Harry and Malfoy's fight. Seamus clapped him on the back and congratulated him for finally wiping the smirk off Malfoy's face. Hermione, however, only gave a hearty sniff and buried her nose in her History of Magic book.

When Jo arrived, she seemed to be trying very hard not to smile. "I didn't fall off," she told Harry in a whisper.

"See," Harry said, "what did I tell you?"

Her smile wavered. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be. I shouldn't have stooped to his level."

-

The next morning, Hedwig swooped low over the Gryffindor table, dropping a letter in Harry's cereal. He shook it off and unfolded it.

Hermione paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. "What is it?"

"My detention," Harry said, his stomach clenching. "I have to report to the dungeons at six o'clock Monday."

Hermione gave him a look that clearly said she thought his detention was well deserved. Jo just ducked her head low over her plate, color rising in her cheeks.

Harry glanced at the Slytherin table. Malfoy had received a letter, too. He was staring down at it with a look of abject horror on his face that made Harry wonder where he had been assigned for his detention.

Harry was so distracted in Potions that day, he dropped more things than Jo did. He accidently added too many slugs to the potion and spent the next five minutes trying to smother the flames leaping up from his cauldron. Lily finally extinguished it with a stream of water from her wand, shaking her head in disappointment. She then had to rush across the room where Malfoy was yelling. Some of his and Goyle's botched potion had splashed onto his hand and seemed to be burning through his skin. Lily went to fetch an antidote from her office, during which several Gryffindors laughed loudly at Malfoy's misfortune.

Hermione was the only one who managed to brew a sufficient potion that day. As the class filed out of the room after the lesson, she was positively beaming. When Harry said that he was going to the library after lunch, she said she thought it was a splendid idea and insisted on joining him. Jo followed along as well, forcing Harry to work on his Transfiguration homework instead of looking up information on the Seeing Stones like he should have been doing.

His time in the library that weekend was limited, too. Hermione, spurred on by her success in Potions, seemed to have decided that there was an unofficial competition between herself and Harry and spent the whole weekend writing and rewriting her essays. Harry would have just ignored her, but his very presence in the library seemed to unnerve her. She frequently looked up at him and scratched out long passages from her essay with a heavy sigh. Once, she upset a bottle of ink over a book and spent the next quarter of an hour being berated by Madam Pince. Harry finally just grabbed a couple of books and left, retreating to the common room.

Jo provided another hinderance to Harry's research. One day, when he was reading what felt like the twentieth biography on Crystallus, she leaned over his shoulder and asked what he was reading, making him jump about a foot.

"Just some background reading," he muttered dismissively, "for History of Magic."

Though Jo didn't ask any more questions, he began to feel a bit edgy around her. The last thing he needed was to get other people involved in this. He might have asked Hermione for help—she was certainly better at research than he was—but he knew that she would want to know why. If he told her it was for a class, she would know he was lying, since she paid more attention than anyone. If he told her the truth, she would probably question him so much he would never get anything done.

The way it was, Harry was only able to get in a decent amount of research done by pretending to go to bed early so he could read. Even then, he found himself being chastised for studying too much.

"You're making the rest of us look bad," Seamus said Saturday night when he came up to the dormitory to find Harry flipping madly through a tome almost as large as he was.

By the time the weekend ended, Harry had still not found a single reference to Seeing Stones in any biographies. He knew that he had not gone through everything by any means, but that did not stop the overwhelming frustration that overcame him when he finally gave up at two o'clock Monday morning. He extinguished his lantern and lay down, squeezing his eyes shut. His headache, which had begun a few hours earlier due to trying to read in low light, had exploded into a full migraine.

He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. The skin at the corners of his eyes was damp. He was crying. A fresh wave of annoyance swept through him. The pain in his head, though severe, was not even on par with the worst agony he'd had from his scar. Even if it was the frustration and not the pain, he should not have been losing control like this.

He let his arm fall and turned onto his side, clenching his fists and biting his lip. What was the matter with him?

- - - - -

Author's Note: Please review. Next chapter: an attempted attack, an interrogation, and a cryptic message. After a rather eventful detention, Harry goes on a midnight mission to gather clues to the identity of the mysterious cloaked figure.


	6. Chapter 6: The Midnight Mission

Author's Note: A thousand thanks to all reviewers. Reception to Harry's behavior has been a bit lukewarm, which is understandable. There is a reason for some of the childish behavior that will be revealed later on. There's also a reason for Harry's lack of magical ability. As to why he's not going to Dumbledore about anything, there's a couple reasons. The important one to know right now is that he has no credibility and no proof of anything. That said, enjoy.

- - - - -

Chapter 6: The Midnight Mission

In spite of only going to bed a few hours earlier, Harry awoke before dawn on Monday in an exceptionally bad mood. He considered going down to the library to do some more research, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, he lay in bed until the first rays of sunlight began to drift through the window. Then he got up and headed down to the Great Hall.

There were only about a dozen people in the Hall, most of whom seemed to be madly rushing to finish homework rather than eating. Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table and reached for a piece of toast, yawning and letting his eyes drift around the room.

His gaze settled on the Slytherin table. A couple of fifth years were whispering to each other at one end of the table, each writing something at lightning speed on a scroll of parchment. At the other end, Malfoy was sitting alone. Besides in the hospital wing after the fight, it was the first time Harry had seen Malfoy without Crabbe and Goyle since the term started. Malfoy's face was ashen and drawn, and he stared down at the table with heavy-lidded eyes.

Malfoy glanced up then, as though sensing that someone was watching. Harry quickly turned his attention downward, reaching for a plate of toast, but he had lost his appetite. He had seen Malfoy this way before, but that was when he was much older, when he was ordered to kill Dumbledore in his sixth year. Harry did not even want to think about what this could mean.

Other students began to file in. No one else seemed to take notice of Malfoy's strange behavior, not even Crabbe and Goyle, who took up their usual places on either side of him.

Harry was not so lucky. "Cheer up," Hermione said, trying to coax him into eating something. "I mean, your mum's heading up your detention, so it can't be that bad."

When Malfoy got up from his table early and left the Great Hall, Harry wanted to follow, but he had Defense Against the Dark Arts starting in ten minutes, and he did not need to get himself into more trouble. He reluctantly followed the rest of the Gryffindors upstairs.

Harry only managed to spot Malfoy during meals for the rest of the day. A few Slytherin girls seemed to notice his odd behavior at lunch and occasionally leaned across the table as though to ask if he was okay. Unfortunately, Harry was not able to watch him much, as Hermione seemed intent on having a deep conversation with him about counterjinxes. Dinner was not much better. Jo was stressed over a essay on levitation charms due the next day. By the time Harry had finished helping her and looked up, Malfoy was gone.

"You should go," Hermione said. "It's almost six."

Harry nodded and bid the others goodbye, leaving the hall. He made his way down to the dungeons at a slow pace. To his surprise, he rounded the last corner to find Malfoy standing outside the door to the Potions classroom. Malfoy only gave Harry the barest of smirks without speaking.

Lily opened the door and waved them in a few minutes later. She had set up two ladders in the middle of the room. Two sets of dragon-hide gloves, two rags, and several bottles of Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover stood on one of the tables. "You'll be scrubbing the ceiling," she said, pointing up at the grimy stones. "Seems my predecessor has neglected to do so for several years."

Harry soon discovered that she was not exaggerating. It took an entire bottle to clean just the small patch that he could reach without moving the ladder. After only half an hour of scrubbing off dried potion and bits of slug that somehow ended up on the ceiling, his arms were aching and sweat trickled down his face. He mopped his brow with his sleeve and glanced over to see how Malfoy was faring.

Malfoy's ladder was empty. Harry turned his eyes down and saw Malfoy sitting in a chair, his head bowed. He seemed to be shaking slightly. Harry felt a touch of pity, but it was quickly overcome by annoyance. Malfoy was probably just faking it to get out of working.

Lily noticed Malfoy as well and walked over, touching his shoulder lightly. "You all right?" When Malfoy turned his ashen face to look at her, she nodded once. "Take a short break. If you're not feeling better in ten minutes, we'll reschedule your detention." She turned back toward her desk.

It happened as quick as a flash. Harry saw Malfoy reach into his pocket, and his heart slammed into his throat. "_Mum, look out!_" he shouted.

Lily whirled around, waving her wand. "_Immobulus!_"

Malfoy sat stock still in his chair with a wooden box clutched in his hands, the lid open. A large black spider stood frozen inside, poised as though ready to pounce.

The box slipped from Malfoy's grip and he made a mad dash for the door. Lily pointed her wand at it, causing the lock to slide into place just before he reached it.

"Sit down," she said in a deathly quiet voice.

Malfoy moved obediently back to his seat, looking positively petrified.

"Harry, I need you to find another professor," Lily said, waving her wand once to unlock the door again. "Tell them I need Professors Sinistra and Dumbledore down here immediately."

"But—"

"Do as you're told!"

Harry leapt down from the ladder and took off at a run. He found no teachers in the dungeons or on the ground floor, so he hurried up the stairs, ignoring the curious glances of the students he passed. As he rounded a corner, he almost ran headlong into Professor McGonagall.

"No running in the corridors, Potter."

"Professor!" Harry said. "Malfoy attacked my mum!"

Professor McGonagall gripped his shoulder tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line. She glanced around at the students milling around, several eyeing Harry curiously. "All of you, back to your common rooms," she said. She turned back to Harry. "Now, tell me what happened."

Harry rushed through the story as fast as he could. Professor McGonagall's expression turned grave as he spoke, and she interrupted him to flag down a passing Slytherin. "Higgs, find Professor Sinistra. Tell her I need her and Professor Dumbledore in the Potions classroom at once. Come with me, Potter." She took Harry by the arm and lead him back the way he had come.

The scene in the classroom was much the same as when Harry left. Lily had her wand trained on Malfoy, who sat in his chair trembling from head to toe, his head bowed.

"They're on their way," Professor McGonagall said. She stooped down and picked up the box that covered the still-frozen spider on the floor. "Is this it then?"

Lily nodded without moving her eyes from Malfoy.

"An Acromantula, if I'm not mistaken," McGonagall said. She shook her sleeve down over her hand and carefully scooped the spider back into the box. "Professor Kettleburn will want to have a look at it, no doubt." She turned her critical gaze on the top of Malfoy's head.

The door opened again and Professor Sinistra strode in, dragging the student named Higgs along with her. Dumbledore followed not far behind.

"What is all this about?" Professor Sinistra demanded.

"Calm yourself, Aurora," Dumbledore said. "Lily, please explain."

Lily gave a quick retelling of what happened. By the time she finished, Professor Sinistra seemed driven to speechlessness, her expression livid.

Lily glanced around. "Harry, go back to your common room. You too, Higgs."

Harry opened his mouth to object, but Dumbledore spoke first. "Perhaps it would be best to keep them here for now," he said. "We should try to keep the rumors contained until we know exactly what we're dealing with." He turned his gaze on Malfoy. "Would you care to explain yourself, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy showed no sign of hearing. In fact, the only sign that he was even aware of their presence was that he now shook so badly he seemed almost to be having a fit.

"If I may make a suggestion, Albus," Professor Sinistra said. "There may be a way to speed up the process. We are in a Potions classroom, after all."

Malfoy's head snapped up, looking terrified. Dumbledore watched him for several moments. "That won't be necessary," he said. He stepped forward, pulling up a chair so he could sit directly across from Malfoy. "Mr. Malfoy, look at me."

Malfoy looked determinately at the wall.

"You're not in trouble yet," Dumbledore said in a gentle but firm voice, "but I can bring the Ministry into this if I have to."

After several tense moments, Malfoy finally met Dumbledore's gaze.

"What Professor Potter said, is it true?" Dumbledore asked.

Malfoy stared determinately back, not answering. Dumbledore continued on as though he had.

"Where did you get the spider?"

Still nothing.

"Who sent it to you?"

No reply, but Dumbledore appeared to have gleaned all that he needed. He stood. "Empty your pockets," he said.

Malfoy hesitated, his eyes darting around the room as though looking for any escape. Faced with four armed professors, however, he reached into his pocket with a shaky hand and drew out a folded bit of parchment.

Professor McGonagall took it at once and she clapped a hand to her chest. "Good Lord," she whispered. She passed the letter to Professor Sinistra. Harry moved slightly closer to get a better look and saw an unfamiliar slanted handwriting. He could not make out what it said, but there appeared to be no signature.

Professor Sinistra barely glanced at the letter before crumpling it in her fist. "Who sent this to you, boy?" she asked.

"I don't know!" Malfoy burst out, making Harry jump. He had his arms hugged tightly over his chest, his head bowed so low Harry could not even see his face anymore.

"He's telling the truth," Dumbledore said before Professor Sinistra could speak again. He was still watching Malfoy. "Did you tell anyone outside the school about your detention?"

But Malfoy had gone silent again.

"He'll have told his parents, of course," Professor McGonagall said, taking the letter back from Professor Sinistra and smoothing it out. "This is Lucius Malfoy's doing."

"We can't know for certain, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "Any letter he sent out may have been intercepted, or there may be another informant inside the school."

"It doesn't matter who sent it," Professor Sinistra insisted briskly. "I won't stand for this behavior in my House. Mark my words, he'll be on the train home by morning."

"I think, on this occasion, that decision should rest with Professor Potter." Dumbledore turned his gaze on Lily.

Lily looked between Dumbledore's calm face, Professor McGonagall's stern gaze still fixed on Malfoy, and Professor Sinistra's furious stare. "I think expulsion is a bit too severe," she said. "He's only a first year, after all."

"He tried to kill you, Lily," Professor Sinistra said.

"We don't know how much coercion was involved," Professor McGonagall pointed out. "He may have thought that whoever sent it would harm him if he didn't do what they wanted."

Dumbledore nodded, now watching Malfoy again. "It is possible," he said. He glanced around at Harry and Higgs. "I think it's time Mr. Potter and Mr. Higgs returned to their common rooms. Professors McGonagall, Sinistra, if you would be so kind?"

"Come on, Potter." Professor McGonagall started for the door. Harry looked back at his mother, but finally followed reluctantly.

Professor McGonagall did not speak again until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "It might be best to keep this under wraps for the time being," she said.

Harry nodded. He had no intention of telling anyone.

The eight o'clock curfew had only just passed, so the common room was still very crowded. He saw Hermione and Jo sitting by the fire and went the other way, weaving his way through the other students and heading up to the empty dormitory.

Harry, who had managed to keep control of himself until now, leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, shaking almost as much as Malfoy had in the dungeons. As hard as he tried, he could not make himself stop.

He wasn't sure what he had expected from Malfoy, but it certainly wasn't this. Malfoy might have been capable of attempting to carry out an assassination at sixteen, but eleven? Harry found himself agreeing with Professor McGonagall. There had to be coercion involved. He also agreed that Lucius Malfoy seemed the likeliest source. After all, he apparently had a vendetta against Harry's family. It was difficult to know for certain though, since Harry didn't know all of the factors involved.

But even if he did know, there was nothing he could do about it. He was eleven. He doubted anyone would take his concerns seriously. Dumbledore might, but Harry was not sure. After all, he was not the boy who lived anymore. He was just another student. Currently, he probably seemed like a particularly troublesome student.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry looked up to see Neville standing over him, Trevor the toad clutched in his hands. "I'm fine," Harry muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. He moved to stand up, but his legs twitched out from under him and he sat down hard.

Neville dropped Trevor and grabbed Harry's arm to help him up. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Harry tried to sound more convincing this time. He managed to get to his bed on his own, where he pulled the hangings shut to block out Neville's worried expression. He lay back, sighing. There was nothing he could do right now. He would just go to sleep and see where he was in the morning.

So, he closed his eyes. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. He turned on his side. His arm fell asleep, so he rolled over onto his stomach. He couldn't breathe. He sat up, fluffing his pillow, and lay on his back again. He kicked off first his blanket, then the sheet. He turned on his side again, drawing his knees up to his chest.

He couldn't sleep.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Harry got up, pulling the hangings back. A few hours had passed since he spoke to Neville. The other boys were fast asleep in their beds now, Seamus snoring lightly. Harry crossed to the window, staring out over the dark grounds. The forest was just a black mass of trees. Harry wondered if the cloaked figure he saw was still out there. He doubted it. There were too many dangerous creatures out there. Aragog, for example. Even the centaurs were not pleasant if you got on their bad side.

A light clicked on in Harry's mind. The centaurs. Could they have seen something? It seemed very likely. They had known when Quirrell was stalking through the forest in his first year, though they did not know who he was at the time. One of them might even have seen this person's face. Most of the centaurs were very hard to talk to, but if he could find Firenze...

Next thing Harry knew, he was halfway down the stairs, pulling a cloak around his shoulders, still in his pajamas. He knew he was doing something very stupid. He also knew that if he stopped, he would probably lose his nerve. He was in the common room and nearly to the portrait when a sudden, grunting snore made him jump, whirling around with his wand raised.

"Who's there?" a shaky voice asked. Jo, who appeared to have fallen asleep on top of her Astronomy homework, sat bolt upright in her chair, looking around wildly.

Harry sighed, lowering his wand. "Just me."

"Harry?" Jo, squinted at him in the darkness. "What're you doing down here?" Her eyes widened. "You're not leaving the Tower, are you?"

"Just for a bit," he said. "I'll be right back."

"You can't!" she said, jumping to her feet. "What if you get caught? You'll be expelled!"

"I won't be expelled for that," Harry said dismissively, pushing the portrait open and climbing through.

Jo clambered out after him. "How do you—?"

"Don't..." Harry interrupted, but it was too late. Jo had already let the portrait swing shut and the canvas was empty; the Fat Lady had gone on one of her visits.

"Great," he muttered. "That's just perfect."

"W...what do we do?" Jo asked.

"You stay here until she comes back," he said, starting off down the hall.

She caught his arm. "I'm not staying here by myself!"

Harry sighed. He didn't have time for this. "Okay, fine. But keep quiet." He started down the hallway, Jo tailing behind him.

Harry used every shortcut he knew of, but it still seemed to take forever to get downstairs. In the absence of his Invisibility Cloak, he felt exposed and vulnerable. He was forced to creep along in the shadows, peeking around corners for teachers. When he did see one, he had to pause and wait for them to pass before hurrying down the corridor as fast as he could, ducking behind pillars and suits of armor.

Once, he was just about to step out from behind a statue when Jo caught his arm. She pointed silently at what Harry had missed: Mrs. Norris prowling along the other wall. He held his breath as she came nearer. Just as he was sure they were caught, there was a sudden squeak of a mouse from down the hall. Mrs. Norris took off after it, her tail disappearing around a corner. Harry mouthed a quick, "Thanks," at Jo and hurried along.

They had to wait again on the first floor, where Peeves was busy writing rude words on the ceiling in chalk. They headed down to the ground floor, where they skirted the edge of the Entrance Hall, pushed the door open a crack, and slipped outside.

Harry took the stairs two at a time, immediately ducking into the shadow of the staircase. He grabbed Jo's arm and pulled her after him. "Stay here," he said. "This is out of sight enough; you'll be fine.

"Where are you going?" she asked in a frantic voice.

Harry knew the answer would just upset her, so he ignored the question. "If I'm not back in an hour, get yourself back inside. If you see a teacher, just stay where you are. If you see someone you don't know, run. Either get back inside or make a run for the hut out that way." He pointed. "That's where Hagrid lives. He can protect you. Do you understand?"

To his surprise, Jo nodded silently. She looked too frightened to speak, her eyes shining with tears.

"Hey," Harry said, squeezing her shoulder, "I'll be back, okay?"

She nodded again, sniffling.

Harry gave her one last encouraging smile and pulled up his hood. His eyes swept over the grounds to make sure his way was clear, and he took off toward the nearest patch of trees, ducking his head as low as he could. The moon was only a tiny sliver in the sky, so the grounds were nearly pitch black. As he got farther from the school, he became bolder. Finally, when he had covered two thirds of the distance, he glanced around one last time and sprinted toward the forest.

Harry slowed when he reached the first trees and stopped a few feet into the forest, leaning against a tree and breathing deeply as his vision blurred. He had misjudged how out of shape his body might be. Nevertheless, he felt a certain pride. He had made it from Gryffindor Tower to the Forbidden Forest without his Invisibility Cloak or even the Marauders' Map without anyone seeing him.

Now came the hard part. Harry had absolutely no idea how to find the centaurs. He had a vague recollection of where Aragog's lair was, so he knew to avoid that area. It struck him that he had never really come into contact with any of the other dangerous creatures that were supposed to live in the forest. He had seen thestrals, centaurs, unicorns, and Hagrid's hippogriffs, but otherwise, he was still woefully ignorant. He glanced up at the moon again. Well, at least the rumored werewolves wouldn't be a problem.

Harry was just moving into a denser portion of the forest when a loud hoot nearly made him jump out of his skin. A tawny owl took flight from a nearby tree. He clutched his chest and chuckled under his breath. He was just making himself paranoid. Still, when he heard muffled, shuffling steps behind him a moment later, he whirled around, raising his wand. A pair of orange eyes towered over him, surrounded by a mass of gray feathers.

"Buckbeak." Harry let out a rush of air, his knees buckling slightly. The hippogriff pawed the ground edgily, so he gave a low bow. After several tense moments, Buckbeak folded his legs up underneath him, bowing back.

Harry sighed again and stepped forward to pat the hippogriff's beak. "Hello, Buckbeak. Do you know where the centaurs are?" he whispered, not even knowing if Buckbeak would understand.

Buckbeak clicked his beak in response.

Harry took that as a yes. "Do you know Firenze?"

Another click.

"Can you take me to him?"

Buckbeak nudged Harry's hand and moved his head, looking back over his shoulder briefly. Harry took the hint and moved around to Buckbeak's side, clambering up onto his back. Buckbeak stood up and set off at a fast trot, forcing Harry to lean forward and wrap his arms around the feathered neck to keep from falling off.

Harry soon lost track of where he was as Buckbeak weaved around the trees. Branches tore at his cloak, but he kept his head bowed low, squinting up ahead to see where they were going.

After about fifteen minutes, Buckbeak stopped suddenly. Before Harry could even see why, the hippogriff let out a piercing cry and reared up on his hind-legs, forcing Harry to hold on for dear life. He looked around Buckbeak's head to see what the fuss was about and felt his stomach plunge into ice.

A cloaked figure was staring out from behind a tree, its face shadowed under a hood. A single white hand with bony fingers rested against the trunk of the tree.

Several moments passed in which Buckbeak made threatening lunges at the figure, clicking his beak, but stayed in the same place, as though frightened. The figure didn't move. Harry was almost certain he could feel its eyes watching him.

Then there was a beating of hooves, and the figure turned, disappearing into the darkness. A shadow moved out of the corner of Harry's eye and he turned to see the centaur Firenze trotting into view. He had a bow clutched in one hand and a quiver of arrows on his back. He bristled slightly at the sight of Harry.

"A human foal in the forest," Firenze said. "Bane won't be pleased."

"Please," Harry said, "I came to ask a question."

Firenze narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You may," he said after a moment, "but I can't guarantee an answer."

"Have you seen anything strange in the forest lately? Someone wearing a cloak?"

Firenze turned his eyes upward, silent for a long time as he examined the sky. A twig snapped in the distance. Quick as a flash, Firenze drew an arrow from his quiver and pulled the bowstring taut, pointing it in the direction that Harry had seen the figure disappear. "What do you know of this?" he said.

"Not much," Harry said. "The teachers searched, but they couldn't find whoever it was."

Firenze paused. He looked up again, and lowered his bow. "They won't," he said finally. "Not until he wants to be found."

Harry's heart leapt. "Do you know who it is?"

Firenze turned suddenly, resting a hand against Buckbeak's neck. "Take him back to the school," he said. "It's not safe here."

Before Harry could even think of something else to say, Buckbeak clicked his beak and took off again. Harry cried out and wrapped his arms around Buckbeak's neck again as the hippogriff moved in a wide half-circle and sped in the opposite direction.

The trip back out of the forest seemed to take no time at all. Buckbeak slowed when they reached the edge of the trees. He knelt down on the grass again so Harry could climb off his back.

"Thanks," Harry murmured. Buckbeak clicked his beak and trotted back into the forest.

The spot near the stairs where Harry had left Jo was empty. He supposed she had probably gotten scared and went back inside on her own. He started up the stairs on aching legs. He hoped there were still a few hours of night left. He was dead tired.

Just as he reached for the door, it sprang open under his hand, and he found himself staring into a set of pale eyes.

"Well," Filch said, his lips twitching into a malevolent smile, "what have we here?"

Harry heard a small sniffling and glanced around Filch. Jo stood behind him, her face buried in her hands.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Please review. Next chapter: another detention, argument, and attack as September moves into October. Halloween is fast approaching, and though there is nary a troll in sight, the night still holds an unpleasant surprise for the Hogwarts inhabitants. Due to breaking a bone in my foot, I've been on pain killers and haven't been writing much lately. I don't know how long it'll take to get the next chapter out, but if it takes a while, that's probably the reason.


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